On the Champs-Elysées

I ransacked the boulevard
My flame thrower lies in a puddle of diesel
It rains burnt shreds of dollars
On the Champs-Elysées

I stoned the windows of luxury
Played among the broken glass
To avoid cutting myself an artery
On the Champs-Elysées

I knocked over a police van
The darkness was blocking its sight
It smashed itself against a streetlight
On the Champs Elysees

I — I am the night of the great megacities
I have taken the shape of each criminal
By carving a shadow worthy of the sky
On the Champs Elysees

I — I am the night, the night sweat
That invades every square meter
The back of every stunned visitor
On the Champs Elysées

I took the form of a herd of teenagers
Who smoked pot on the sly
I made them a cradle of shadow
On the Champs Elysees

I am the reverse of the bright day,
The infinite nothingness the insoluble darkness
That stare at every human form
On the Elysian Fields

But the morning points at me
Like a haggard criminal
I stretch out my wrists to the police sun,
That it passes me its luminous handcuffs

On the Champs Elysées

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