by getten to know you, means, — to go in the setting of the soul, to open the folder, — [status], to check off — [the happiness], (and) to set the password, — [love] (anything else can be omitted) 🫧 by getten to know me, implies, — to carry me daily in your days, to let my eyes' tempo be yours, to choose my time's destination, (and) to let my desires be your satiety [anything else claims patience] 🫧 but to those who wants to know who am I and you, say to them, — don't try to penetrate through our invincible lupine component; don't dare, don't suppose, never, or our essence will use its shield; [we're passion never translated] 🫧 y'see, we know people are strange; (try not being the one of those who ...expired before being discovered)

— Doctor, I don't feel well, in fact, I don't know what I have. When I'm walking, I feel a kind of pain, don't know where it is but goes away suddenly, without knowing why. — Okay, let me give you a prescription for, said, the doctor. So, take a... don't know what medicament for don't know how long and don't know how many per day, and you gonna feel much better (dunno when...). « Après 50 ans, on reçoit plein des roses : sclé roses , arth roses , ostéopo roses , név roses . Pour toutes ces roses , il y a un remède.🥂 Donc pas de panique. C’est pas grave. »😉 “ YA trop d’bruits Pour penser à ma vie Pour changer mes habitudes J’vais marcher Pour changer mes idées Ma peur de la solitude C’est pas grave s’il n’y a personne pour m’écouter J’vais chanter pour les oiseaux Si tout l’monde a les oreilles bouchées J’vais crier pour m’amuser YA trop d’bruits J’m’entends plus chanter J’vais faire comme d’habitude Comme chez moi Ou au milieu du bois J’vais chanter ma

— knock, knock – who's there? — the doors – the doors who? — the doors are between us; open up to play a little game

it may have been in pieces... but I gave you the best of me Awake. Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one. Choose the day and choose the sign of your day the day's divinity. First thing you see. A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon, couples naked race down by its quiet side and we laugh like soft, mad children smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy. The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon, the Ancient Ones, - the time has come again, choose now they croon  beneath the moon beside an ancient lake. Enter again the sweet forest,  Enter the hot dream, Come with us! Everything is broken up and dances. Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding, Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind. We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theater to propagate our lust for life - and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. The barns have stormed, the windows kept - and only one of all the rest to dance and save us from the d