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short poem

dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
je vous chante
nous qui se sont tenus
lĂ  oĂą je trouvez-vous
l'aube était vert pomme
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
il y a un pays complètement de vin
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
simplicité
quand un contrat est fait pour la liberté
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux

 



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