Hubert-Félix Thiéfaine cabaret sainte lilith

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There's always a weirdo at the end of his tripod
Who burns his eyes out on a bear in heat
On the side of those nights where the chance
With fingers stuck with cum and sweat
There's always a taxi that gets lost in the mist
With a dead queen as food for ghosts Souls
And old rancid crows on the edge of the asphalt
Who come to die at the bend of your zone
Lilith, oh, Lilith
There is always a penguin blowing his lungs
through a saxophone connected to music
And exiled kids who disguise their names
On the transit sheets of hallucinatory hotels
There is always a pigeon that goes up in smoke
In the viscous corridors of an old dream-agony
br/>And horny cigars on the freaked out lips
Of disfigured gods made up by your nights
Oh, Lilith, you know how it feels
Lilith, the scorched guys
The crazy ones
Who shoot themselves behind your zinc
Lilith, Lilith, you know how it comes
Guys completely stressed
Who ask for you in the toilet
A little can, a little smoke
A sniff, a syringue
A good handjob, and then ciao sleep
There is always a little sister who is drowning in his nerves
Deep down a back room of an old filthy box
And others who go to breathe the fresh air
On a beach in Hamburg, Belfast or Galsgow
br/>There's always a one-legged bar mutt
Who dumps his bags in the ladies' toilet
And some stiff guys on the arm of old groupies
Who dà Their Canigou on ice shouts laughing
Oh, Lilith, you know how it cums
Lilith, the scorched guys
You walk nowhere on your knees on my oars
With memories of the nag rod
You go down the neighborhood where the same people play checkers
And make me see the stuff in the palm of their hands
br/>But I have lost the address of other solitudes
To contemplate the darkness in the eyes of passers-by
You have often encountered them at the edge of the hotel ©study
Who couldn't sleep without their dose of blood
Lilith, you know how it cums
Lilith, finished guys
The crazy crazy
Who shoot themselves behind your zinc
Lilith, Lilith, you know how, how it cums
The guys complete Feeling stressed
Who calls you to the toilet
A little can, a little smoke
A sniff, a syringet
A good handjob, and then it plays, it enjoys

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