Between the swell and the grain
The Poet is there, he is good
When there are no more sides
There are no more places
Precarious balance
The worm maker is king
When there are no more sides
There are no more places.
Just a little of wine to be comfortable
No need for a peze, no need for a peze to be smart
Just a little wine to be comfortable
No need of pèze, no need for pèze to be clever
Between the Havre et Caumartin
Without beating around the bush
He arrives with panache
And finds the bottom of the cows
With words he juggles
To escape a childhood of love re
Hanging under the nails
Like a piece of worms
Just a little wine to be comfortable
No need for pez, no need for p ¨ze to be smart
Just a little wine to be comfortable
No need for peze, no need for peze to be smart
Over the evening in the morning
He refuses to go to sorrow
Remains free to love
And fears the white
But he will slip away
Life is a poem, however.
Just a little wine to be at ease
No need for pezze, no need for pezez to act clever
The sky is witness to his poetry sie
The King has chosen the right to the feast