"I came to see you before I left, there was no one there, it's better that way, I didn't know what to say, don't think I'm abandoning you even if, once again, I'm leaving you with the worst part: the tears we shed over a man's death.
Farewell my friends, I will have fought well still, farewell my loves, pray for me... You that I love, that I have loved, companion of a day or of a year, already you know that in my heart even moldy still float violence and tenderness... my existence does not hold only to my fat, I am spirit before being a body, I am dead but nothing is finished, there remains my voice and very few writings.
I had especially a big mouth to sing songs of love for Paris, on the small stage of Tours... My friends, don't cry, the fight goes on without me, as long as someone will listen to my voice I'll be alive in your stupid world ! with blood in my eye sockets, and even plastic on my dick I'll surely fail the exam of the great sage but I'll still take the opportunity to tell him what I think of his existence, this rabble, and if he doesn't see that I'm an angel, then let him change jobs...
and if he wants, I'll take his place: there'll be girls and ganja, unlimited pass We'll have girls and ganja, unlimited passes, we'll flap our wings and fly drunk, we'll eat bad apples and spit out evil like a pip, we'll be sincere as ever and we'll be beautiful for it..."
(Tried my best to translate the lyrics in English).
I know Americans don't know Mano Solo. He was a singer and a poet, and his voice was something else. His wrote this song as a last letter to his fans.
He was the new Jacques Brel in France, had Aids but refused to let go. He fought like a tiger. But in 2010 Aids won.
5 years later, in 2015, his dad, Cabu, was killed at Charlie Hebdo by jihadists. He was one of the favorite cartoonists in France.
