lundi 5 mars 2012

Plus rien a dire

When French lovers love a lover's spat
not always may it befall in the privacy of a flat
some, charged with chagrin
are ready to post before a field
so that all with a conscious know how you feel

Maybe there is room for irony, a smiley; a frown
But even a bat knows that if there's nothing more for us to say
you might as well write it in open space
and say 'fuck', I'll wear my own crown.

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