Histoire d' un homme faible

Story of a weak man
Overwhelmed by melancholy
Easy prey
In the oblivion of the past.
In a bar
Some well-gathered rascals
But one of them had no more money
So no more booze
Suddenly he exclaimed:
"Hey, I'd sell my soul for a good wine"
And finally came a man with a troubling look
Dressed in black
"Funky style"
Leaving behind a trail of sulfur
Sat next to him and asked:
"Hey, you said you'd sell your soul for a good wine
Alright, I feel like having fun"
Deal done, the stranger disappeared and came back during the night.
The drinker, whose cup was magically filled with good wine
"Delicious" and drunk on life.
When someone buys a horse
Do you think
The saddle and bridle belong to him too.
We recognize the devil
And hesitate to speak
He insists
And gets an affirmative answer
Immediately, he grabbed the drinker and disappeared with him through the chimney and then shouted:
"Weak man
Now you pay the high price facing Satan."
Strong man
Never thought weak
The saddle and bridle
Of the sold horse
Were the body of the man whose soul the demon had bought

Death is here
The mist has struck the soul of the being
You thought you were born
It's hell you're going to know
Death is angry
Specter penetrates you
From the darkness
Now the march is funereal

Funeral
Vivcelow brings the undertakers
The devil is master
He clears the priest's man
Engagement
You can close doors and windows
Lucifer takes you in marriage then sends you packing

Far Far Far
Miles away from the capital
In a castle
Capital step
Recapitulation
Of invitations
Tonight there will be an atmosphere
Here is the population
Made up of castles with very good pussies, oh!
For the Makomés there will be Renée Chateau movies
But there is a dilemma
The party is canceled

Oh you losers...
Death is here
The mist has struck the soul of the being
You thought you were born
It's hell you're going to know
Death is angry
Specter penetrates you
From the darkness
Now the march is funereal

My visitors have no facial features
I consider fleeing to the depths of the landscape
I am not like them
They are not common
Extraordinary strength
They consider me like a common sewer rat
I am disgusted
The reception room is redone
According to their taste
Alcoholic monsters
Satanic atmosphere
Diabolic orgies
Vicelow panics
Bloody madness
I have the right to witness murders
Wounded
I wonder:
"Will I end up in hell?"
New Panorama
A black man leaves
Takes Satan's canal
Hell
Open up
Here Sir Vicelow
Who swore to invite Satan to his party

Death is here
The mist has struck the soul of the being
You thought you were born
It's hell you're going to know
Death is angry
Specter penetrates you
From the darkness
Now the march is funereal