'Do you hear the drums of your end Of the world?' For hundred of years he had been Journeying around the cold planet With his magical merry-round He was very far in his trajectory His little chimerical roundabout chislessly Orbited the earth to entertain the citizens 'Do you hear the drums of your end?' 'Do you hear your end of the world?' It was always the same cold reflectssong Coming across on the fourth ring He wondered where that blue voice came from Always that voice! The rainbows and the sunrise containers Were attracted to another place 'Well after all it stayed Just the ruins and blocs of steel The only survivors of the catastrophe!' They had always listened to him Why should they stop? Why should they stop now? He did not really understand Why he was the only one left All other men had been disintegrated By the light of the trip So why he, he and his merry-go-round? And yet, one day, all would cease No one came to see him, no more No one to listen to his song Had his roundabout broken down? And why did the rings stretch away On another side? 'Do you hear the drums Of your end of the world?' All around him nothing, nothing left Only emptiness... He perceived from afar streets Playing ball just like before He saw the children of the Return Building tall museums Where they went to hear Rock And Roll music The music that came From the nights of Time He was going to meet The end of his world! As he went, he caught a glimps Of a huge brazier Which was belching out strange death machin Their favourite daintiness With his merry-go-round Firmly fixed in his mind Sitting on a wooden horse, off he went... But, he knew that he'd come back one day After the next great killing was done! For the last time, they could hear...