I was a quick wet boy, diving too deep for coins. All of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys. Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long baby hair. Stole me a dog-eared map and called for you everywhere. Flightless bird, jealous, weeping or lost you, american mouth. Nursing my sore blunt tongue. Watching the warm poison rats curl through the wide fence cracks.

Exprimes toi, pleinds toi! Mais fou pas ta merde! Ne sors pas sans laisser ta trace. Je suis de bonne humeur, donc je te les rendrai.

Vive la classe de mer de quiberon.

Je vous laisse un mot, parce que je tiens à vous dire ce que je pense.