Down in Algiers the sun makes you mad, it boils the uneven spirit of boyhood, it taunts the child not fully lost from the man.
Yet the natives play it all, spinning the wheel, they set sail for prosperity.
Oh don't leave the belly of wonder, don't neglect the awe of home.
So now the streets of the south sway with wonderment, pour with rage and bustle with resentment.
Damn how the boys in their tracksuits have lost the will,
they fight the new mother, like the uncaring bitch she is,
now they say they're killing one another, well what do you expect.
Viva freedom,
Viva a young man's chance in the world.
Nothing is owned, nothing is yours stupid men!!
Life should be lived in the sun, the heat of ones knowing.
It should always be free of choice, free of tumult.
I wont be afraid to live long into the Algerian sun, breathing the vapour of the words that have past by,
slinking in the shadows of those towering spirits.
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