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family poem

ce qui je vous doivent
il aurait męme sa plaisanterie
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
il n'y avait jamais un bruit prčs du bois mais d'un
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
simplement parlant

 



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