Abbeville Créations June 1, 2015 France

Children's favourite lane is traded
For the mundane profit of a selfish elected representative
It's because they have to follow green money laws
Never mind the noise, the opponents, the risks...

The landscape is being sold to the highest bidder
With the motive for a budget without having talked about it
We will never take a walk again as before
In the roar of my disfigured village

A wind of anger is blowing across the plains
Don't talk to me about “environment”,
whereas you really think about “money”!

It is not the President or the mayor, it is nobody
None accepts to be Robin Hood of winds
But all complicit, they share the crown
And the children's future, served as an argument

Three branches sway on the grey trees
Of your deceptive wood which grows into a forest
The only dead leaves are some bats
Under murdering blades having been secretly negotiated

A wind of anger is rising across the plains
Against the view, the howling noise
The sleepless nights and the crooks...

We stand up for a vast earthen pot
Which has fed the world, seen its armies to fall
Developers concrete their iron pots
Under the blessing of obedient prefects…

We have no other weapon than our hands
While they charge us a little more each month
The cranes quietly approach the gardens
To silence them, is it necessary to kill us?

A wind of anger is brewing across the plains
It is not what people want
Who would really benefit from them?
Who would really benefit from them?