He was committing harakiri
Locked in a French porn cinema
But after the first attempts
"It's not the time," he said, then he gave up
To the developments of the plot
To the depth of the dialogues

To reach the spaceship
That box all made of sheet metal
That wouldn't stop trembling
And barely rested on two stones
He had crossed the fields
And had cut his little toe

Highly harmful love songs
For a heart already too pulsating
Knowing that there wasn't a doctor around
He never stayed to listen to them

In front of a silver paper mirror
He thought: "Look at that physique!"
I could say I was a stuntman

He fell asleep spontaneously
With the sleeping pill left in his pocket
With the foolish smile
Of a gatecrasher at the center of the party
He dreamed of having a lobster
Still alive inside a bag

He had woken up with his coat on
With a can of ditch water
To boil on the stove
Kept balanced with an umbrella
That could no longer open
But was useful for this and that

Even pretending to have a rifle
With which to defend himself when
They tried to cross the border
He shot marble curses
In front of the boys sitting on the hoods who provoked him
He even took down the last saint

Then after a series of unhappy days
He came out dressed in white
He looked like a firefly in the middle of a blackout

To give him a gift, even the sky suddenly opened like a switchblade
As if it were opening a curtain

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