Before the sun has come to rise,
The earth becomes aglow;
Screens awake in every size,
Inside, away from desert snow.

The planet scabbed with canyons;
Our whims have spent our planet's gifts.
Two hundred fifty years, still not done;
The wreck of earth has brought no shift.

We bathe in air too cold
As the outside takes the heat.
Snack food wrappings, printed bold,
Will never rot: ageless, neat.

Our screen turns on — that scene with green we saw:
Like hills back when, with flowers and bees!
Today the movies never end, the blinds never draw,
The land turning grey, no green growth to see.

—————

Can you restart life, please,
In this bad video game?
Refill the land with trees,
Refresh the seas, revive the plains?
     Give earth back all her keys,
     As if our species never came?

—————

Our planet gives but is not endless;
When did our taking go too deep?
Our plastic bags become a hex,
Gathered, melting on the sea.

How can we give up this race?
We blindly bleed the earth for life.
I’m losing space to bury my grace;
And deeper deeper goes the knife.

—————

Monies of man are spinning tricks,
Dancing 'round his private sea.
His wounds & fires the waters lick;
Again his pains are quelled pain-free.

Every day we feed the fires,
We keep the chaos from our eyes.
Every night we flee the fires,
Growing, feasting on our lies.

Lost beneath the wealthiest liars,
Our planet can’t be helped today.
The garbage piles grow higher and higher,
As the world flushes away.

Twirl on with heavy diamond,
Nothing will divert my gaze:
Locked on our tortured planet,
Displeased with human plays.

Spin on now, feed the flame;
Nothing will diffuse my focus.
I know and feel the earth's slow pain
And see our drama at the locus.

—————

Can you restart life, please,
In this bad video game?
Refill the land with trees,
Refresh the seas, revive the plains?
     Give earth back all her keys,
     As if our species never came?

—————

Our planet gives but is not endless;
When did our taking go too deep?
Our plastic bags become a hex,
Gathered, melting on the sea.

How can we give up this race?
We blindly bleed the earth for life.
I’m losing space to bury my grace;
And deeper deeper goes the knife

—————

Monies of man are spinning tricks,
Dancing 'round his private sea.
His wounds & fires the waters lick;
Again his pains are quelled pain-free.

Oops, there goes an oil slick,
Burning on the poor man's sea.
The water itself grows deathly sick,
As tankers bring more poison treat.

It always matters which you pick:
The hothouse crop? The foreign breed?
Or local foods, all bagged and slicked,
For which only rich can dish the fee?

Nature's clock will always tick;
Maybe our fouls can be reprieved.
Become the leader we need mimic,
Before the tipping point is reached.

—————

If we can't (all together) give a shit,
Hell on earth is what will be:
Hiding from nature, overgrown and sick,
Her slow rebellion now reigning free.

Then life will change to that which fits;
As the earth rolls on in torrid heat.
Humans rejoin the infinite,
And nature absorbs all that we leave.

Earth Rape

Pierre de Gaillande sings Georges Brassens.
http://pierredegaillande.com/brassens/

Je Me Suis Fait Tout Petit

Pierre de Gaillande is a Paris-born, New York-based musician. He composes music for film and television, and fronts New York bands Bad Reputation, Open Kimono and others. He is the host of Pierre Pressure Podcast where he talks to musicians about politics.

Je Me Suis Fait Tout Petit

Pierre de Gaillande

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