Ni Dieu ni maitre

The cigarette without a tie
That we smoke at the break of dawn
And the regret of the crippled
With the fear that’s reaching out
The ministry of that priest
And the pity at the window
And the client who might not have
Neither God nor master

The pale burden we wrap up
Like a package heading for the stars
That fall cold on the pavement
And this rose without petals
This lawyer with a briefcase
This dawn that puts on the veil
For tears that might not have
Neither God nor master

These woods they call justice
That grow in the midst of suffering
And to furnish the sacrifice
With the service fir
This procedure that’s lurking
For those society rejects
On the pretext that they might not have
Neither God nor master

This word of the Gospel
That bends the fools
And that brings civil horror
Of nobility and then style
This cry that doesn’t have the rosette
This word of the prophet
I claim it and wish you
Neither God nor master