Renaud
Mistral Gagnant
P'tite Conne
You'll excuse me, darling
for not being able to walk
behind the crowns
of your hip friends
because your drug dealer
maybe there,
among these people in tears
who were talking about you
looking at their watches,
complaining about the cold,
taking responsibility for the shame
of having pushed you there...
Little cunt
you do it to them I don't even want to
you know that these carrion
are much deader than you...
You frequented a world
of worldly imbeciles
where this filthy powder
is consumed in the morning,
where the money allows
to believe oneself safe
and from the assize court
and from our mother ©taken
that your sad universe
inspired us, clever ones
while sipping our beers
or smoking our joints...
Little cunt
You dreamed of Byzantium
But it was Poland
even in your silences...
We didn't know each other
so you forgive me,
I didn't cry when you
broke your opium pipe,
I thought about the hell
of a screaming telephone
br/>to wake up your mother
in the middle of the night.
I would have liked to tell her
that it wasn't your fault
that Not wanting to grow old
We die before the others...
Little idiot
You didn't want to mature,
You fall before the fall
Just before flowering...
But had I known you
that nothing had changed,
little lost child
would you have had me accepted?
I love the sun
just as much as the rain
and when I wake up
and I'm alive
It's everything that matters to me,
much more than happiness
which is a matter for mediocre people
and which wears out the heart...
Little cunt
it's forgetting that you
you were there for no one
and that no one was there...
You'll excuse me, darling,
for not being able to cry
following the crowns,
of your trendy friends,
because your dealer
maybe was there
to breathe these flowers
that you would not like,
to recount these roses
that he paid at the price
of your last dose
and your last cry...
Little cunt
come on, rest
very close to Morisson
and not too far from me...