Ludwig Von 88
New Orleans
Cs 137
We guys from Pripiat
Let's all walk with our heads down
Lift with our loose steps
A dust ¨er outbreak of shame
Stepping without blinking
Avenues emptied of life
On the ground where the snow burns
In rather treacherous particles
We guys with swollen eyes
Coldly move forward
Afraid that a loose gesture
Raises a cloud of dust
Working the body held
In disgraceful omens
Waiting for the monsters to be born
From our unconscious laxity
We guys from Pripyat
Humming a baleful tune
Raw and revealing sound
Wind in the speakers
Counting each of our steps
On a ground grilled with outrage
Sails through our pale eyes
A tear of vain despair