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A song born against panic
An exorcism, a touch of voodoo
A way to push away the abyss
Without anxiolytics, without Xanax
Like dogs on the highway
How looking for the stuff
Have the vision of death
Fuck everything and get wrecked
Put on your boots and let them go
Run so as not to arrive
Love the fire, love his burn
Above the illuminated stage, or in the desert
Begin to sing a rock and roll anthem
It's the Lee Hazlewood
A song born against panic
Against the anguish and famine
A prayer against restlessness
Against horror and daily emptiness
Like Saints Sebastian
Like beasts on the altars
Having the vision of death
Fuck everything and sink
Put on the boots and let them go
Run not to arrive
Love the stake, love its burning
Above the illuminated stage, or in the desert
Start singing a song
Country against panic.