imitations of me Your mouth swishing a truism
What j'ois, good Myrmidon decrepit as I am, I fly
Flying Squirrel In Attic
offer and ataraxia Thy soul right on!
Your ex-crushes of simpleton nonsense
By his rigmarole, I give him a witticism.
His head, a nine yards, I just explode.
Apollo! What arpeggio jazzy harmonies!
finish the aria, outcast, I go to my lovely. Finish
dilection, let's body
Donzelle, cools me a épactase
If I offer love, let thee dumb, then ecstasy
Puisqu'indéfectiblement
I will table the ampersand us .
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