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Of a moment spent changing the severed contacts of the heart and envying the drawers that are always closed in the end. And licking your hands hating the black sugar bought in the specialized shop with the man who tells you: "Sir, your hair is falling out" And with the penny falling down I'll kill myself tomorrow this year, this year I'll quit at the post office and when I grow up I will be an actor, for my music for my music... And I will do nothing else good. And to keep me an idiot for the river and the flies and the dog that runs happily and happily chases the shadow of a toad lost in the mud. And the bear comes at night and not even a finger must stay out of the blankets you must be good, very good. Tomorrow there is school. And with the money that falls tomorrow I'll kill myself this year, this year I'll quit at the post office and when I grow up I'll be an actor, for my music for my music... And I'll do nothing else good. And life chases you, crosses your path screaming, dancing, singing as silently as a hen looks at you with its one yellow eye. But what an ugly misery with the toilet on the stairs and the illusion of wholemeal bread. Please buy me a towel with the executioner's face. And with the money that falls tomorrow I'll kill myself this year, this year I'll quit at the post office and when I grow up I'll be an actor, for my music...