De la m阭e mani鑢e,

Que des filles un peu na飗es,

On se laisse faire,

Par la t阾e du pays,



On s'en va comme des poltrons,

Vivant mal leur 閏art鑜ement,

Entre é–™otion et indiffé–žence,

Entre ré–¢olte et dé–žision,



On a le dé–Ÿir, on se dit il faut agir,

Mais cette l鈉hetâÅ'¦ã„²ã¬¸ inavouable,

Nous rend bien trop gouvernables,



On s'en va comme des poltrons,

Vivant mal leur 閏art鑜ement,

Entre é–™otion et indiffé–žence,

Entre ré–¢olte et dé–žision.



(Whispered at the end of the song...)

on s'en va... 

Hell Of Forms



In the same manner,

As girls a bit naive,

We are manipulated, 

By the head of the(our)country,



We're behaving like cowards,

Ill at ease because of the separation,

Between emotion and indifference,

Between revolt and derision,



We feel the desire, we tell ourselves we must react, 

But this shameful cowardness,

Makes us too easy to be controlled,



We're behaving like cowards,

Ill at ease because of the separation,

Between emotion and indifference,

Between revolt and derision. 



(Whispered at the end of the song...)

we're going away...