The wind plays a haunting tone
It tells me that I’ll die all alone

Far from my friends
A breaths away from where they can no longer defend

My footsteps fall to the sound of guns
It’s too late to become undone

Shiny eyes watch me
The little, waiting absentee

With ****** wrists wrenched behind my back
Standing bound before a man on horseback

And a ***** rag covering his eyes
The absentees’ about to die

Long live France; Long live the future
And the flower falls to the shots of the shoo