He came along, within his heart the sailor song That made cheap wine less bitter for everyone around Two scientists came by and took him to their laboratory Where fourteen judges were to examine this so strange glory One of them said, as they were approaching: “In seven little days, I can make a man out of him!”
The old lady who died last night in Saint Denis street Has never thought a god older than thirty-three
Where is my hat? I’ve got red on my lips I love this play, but I don’t think it’ll last There’s no solution, the result is the same We cannot but die in the end
In the wedding room a bicycle hung on a coat-hanger On the floor hereand there small boxes were scattered The bride came by and looked at that queer encounter While tricky kids came and set her veil on fire One of them said, as they were running faster: “Gosh! No more matches! See how she scratches!”
Where is my hat? I’ve got red on my lips I love this play, but I don’t think it’ll last There’s no solution, the result is the same We cannot but laugh in the end
Her finger roams on the keyboard Beauty lies in ruined make-up She hits the low keys and screams As an umbrella crashes the dream.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
