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CǾMPARΣR Ǿ βATARDS QŲ'iA DANS S'MǾNDΣ J'SUiS UNΣ MΣŲF ΣN ǾR;
MELANCOLiiQUE, CAR LEURS MENSONGES NOUS RONGE N'OUBLiiE JAMAiiS QUE L'HOMME BON DESCEND DU SONGE. MELANCOLiiQUE, A FORCE DE PENSER A LA BELLE ViiE, AU BELLE GOVE, MAiiS PENSER NE RESTE QU'UN ACTE DE PAUVRE. SA FLEURTE AVEC LES MECS PAR PEUR DE L'AMOUR, EST-CE NOTRE FAUTE Sii iiL EST PERCUS COMME UNE FAiiBLESSE ? N'EST PAS HONTE D'AVOiiR DES LARMES Sii TU ViiS TRISTEMENT CAR LES PLEURS SONT LA LESSIVE DES SENTIMENTS. CA Y ES, MON MAL ETRE RENTRE EN PiiSTE, LAiiSSER DONC A MA PLUME LE BONHEUR D'ETRE TRiiSTE. MELANCOLiiQUE EST LA COULEUR DE MON AME, SACHES QUE LA HAiiNE N'EST QUE DE L'AMOUR QUii SE FANE. ENCORE UN SOiiR OU MA RANCOEUR A RiiCOCHET, OU LA ViiE M'A TELLEMENT MiiS DE CROCHETS QU'J'EN SORS ECORCHER MON FRERE ON NAGE ENTRE LA JOiiE ET LA DOULEUR, SACHEZ QU'PLUS JE PRENDS DE L'AGE PLUS MA MELANCOLiiE PREND DE LEMPLEUR.

*+*LA ViiiE EST UNE ROSE DONT iiL FAUT ACCEPTER LES EPiiNES,MAiiS LA MiiENNE EST FANEE ARROSEE PAR LE GOUT DE MES LARMES ...