كانت الدفاتر بيضاء وحياتنا ما بتتغنى،
والراديو يذيع مللنا يا أما خمسة أو خمسين مرة
لمرّة سمعنا فارس قال لنا نردم معابدنا
رحنا وعمّرنا له معبد ثاني بمحلّها

سلّطنا الضوء على وجهه لما طلع حتى يمكسج
ما شفنا غير خياله إختفى وجهه تحت الوهج،
ويطلع يعزف ليتخيّل حاله بالأفلام،
وإحنا نصدّق حكيُه حتى نبرّر الأصنام

حرّفوه، ردّدوه، قدّسوه، ورتّلوه

طربنا بحفلاته لما بلش يلعبلنا
الأسرار اللي خربشناها على الحيط بحمّاماتنا
فسّر الأغنية فصلبناه بخشب المسرح
كان يكتب من الجوع وما في أكل على المذبح

حرّفوه، ردّدوه، قدّسوه، ورتّلوه

ASNAM (IDOLS)

Our notebooks lay bare when being didn’t merit a song
And the radio blared ennui five or fifty times a day
Till once we heard a DJ who said ‘go destroy your temples’
But in their place we built anew, temples in his name
All we saw were shadows, when he’d mount the stage to play
We shone a light too bright, and blurred his face away
And he’d play dubious tunes, telling lies from film
But we believed every word to justify the idols we built for him

They distorted him, to echo him
They sanctified him, to chant him

He thrilled us at his shows when he started to perform
The secrets that we’d scribbled upon the bathroom walls
We nailed him to a stage-wood cross when he explained his lyrics
He too wrote out of hunger, but the altar was always fruitless

They distorted him, to echo him
They sanctified him, to chant him