Frenchy, I'm faking,
Been longing to stir you up,
Changing looks slightly like back in the '90s,
Far and away whistle delayed delights.

The prospect of lightning was ever so frightening,
I said youre kisses are nice,
But I'm looking for hills to roll,
Down with abandon and no understanding.

I borrowed your suitcase and filled it with pearls and gold,
You let me down lightly,
I killed you politely.


by Marcelo Adelar