Ma mémoire sale
“… Cry, I have done it before you did it and there was no use of
What is the point of tears, inundating cushions
I tried, I tried
But my heart is dry and my eyes are bulged
So burn, burn when you sink in my big bed made of ice
My bed of pack ice that melts when you embrace me
Nothing is sad, nothing is serious anymore
If I have your body like a stream of lava
My memory in a dirty river of mud…”
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