Letter
-Babx
Sunday, all of France is going to vote
Today, we're going down to the beach, in swimsuits and sunglasses
My love, I miss you
You've been hiding for a while
Since I haven't seen your cute face appear on the horizon
My love, I miss you, I even forgot your name
Your memory is a cove, my whole body a rag
And when love is missing, there's no point in dancing
In the rain, for me who gives myself some serious whiplashes
I'm waiting for you with Nike on my feet, starting to lose my mind
And just for a kiss, I'll wait for you in socks
My love, I miss you, how ugly Paris is without you
With Anne Frank's diary, I might go to Saint-Denis
To be your Lara Croft, you, my strong, my Shaft
I'll lock my craft paper heart in a loft
I'll make my life a sitcom, like a bit on the Croisette
At bonheur.com, even if cardboard is a bit of a pain
So that you finally notice me, me, the slightly fake
On your mark, I'm landing in Cupid's asylum
My love, I miss you, here we're locked up
We have to dance the French-cancan, to avoid being eliminated
My love, I miss you, I feel like crying
Look at me as a street performer
There's no hiding place to sit down and cry
In tracking, zapping, I won't be pretty to look at
And then you, my love, you won't come looking for me
With this mascara all around, that never stops puking
My love, I miss you, that's it, the public has voted
A cross in pen & ink, just around the corner from the TV
My love, I miss you, and on the cardboard it says
"Miss, you're alive, well done, but you're fired!"
So me, forever, maybe I'll end it
Tie myself a spare knot, since the windows are boarded up
And then you, my love, you have plenty of other fish to fry
but I still feel pretty bad and still havin problems 
www.mail.com
