now you wait
under yellow wild plants
I'm your saint
we play you were poor
keep still
you bring me food
you'll be touching my cheeks
saying lines
oh let's play you were ill
doggy eyes you'll be giving me money you made
from mummy's folded paper foil
you'll tell
me to concentrace
take in the mood
or suffer the plants for good
you dressed me grey
only you get to wear fur and heels
that's life when you're poor
keep still
I bring you food you should shiver your body as you
know all poor people do -- they do
as sisters were playing a soul would be saved forever
the saint swore that poor ones never get to rest in the dark
sisters playing in the yard

INVIA LE CORREZIONI