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People like him don't go to fairs anymore
So he tries the stories
But no one listens to a single word
It's always too low or too high
Her made-up face
Is without measurements and without finishes
He is far from being distinguished
Like a dog that has been forgotten
Walnut
During the time
The waterfront is a little drunk
He comes, he comes, he is jealous
Like his lip that comes alive
From a tide of saliva
Which slowly rises towards you
Toward you
The ladies, who stops him from looking at them
Because it could well disturb them
So he spits out his sobs
In the tender flowers of the reeds
Her made-up face
Is without measurements and without finishes
He is far from being distinguished
Like a dog that has been forgotten
Walnut
During the time
The waterfront is a little drunk
He comes, he comes, he is jealous
Like his lip that comes alive
From a tide of saliva
Which slowly rises towards you
Toward you
But it's on now
We will never look at him the same again
"Bex de lievre" is the only survivor
Of a red rage bled white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
Bleeding white
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