Les Chroniques de Valentin

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juillet 2009

Some ! hearts ! are ! true !

The dust and the mess of our mornings, Promise that we'll never quit So drunk, though our hands surely woven Entire fleets of staggering ships... Now our ships line the floors of the ocean, And the oceans breaching on the ridge, And the terrified dreams of our wanderings That once lit our way are now hid... We want punks in the palace 'Cause punks got the loveliest dreams And our gang is liquored and lovely, And smart and sweet and lean, And burn with a curious flame That spits and kicks and shines And trumpets the labour of wafing and trying There ain't none - sometimes (...)