I listen to the wind whistle at 11,500 meters
While my neighbor flashes on my VU meter
And I imagine her cry, her crimes and her lace
I, who thought I was gassed, now I'm kidding for her
Weather-sex-appeal while watching the drift
From Sèvres-Babylon correspondence Nineveh
And I change to Sodom, to Gomorrah I open a pack
Before pulling myself out of it's fucking Eden-Park
Don't look back
Don't look back
I have my tron u200bu200bbomb and I have my rights man
And I have my outfit of dilapidated puppet
And I have these stupid voices screaming at me in the hygiaphone
Don't you don't turn around, the bill is steep
Don't look back, lady Take your distance
The earth is playing bingo with its teenage crisis
The earth is playing bingo with its teenage crisis adolescence
We are the castaways in this taxi plane
With our eyes lost towards other galaxies
We dream of elevators at the end of an arc sky
Where our sick brains would come out of sleep
Don't look back

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