Let the silence enter in is the role of the object Speaking of cycling, what a relief Unfortunately, this is not what it is, but of her that gave me the day by the ass
And suddenly, I remembered my name, Molloy, My name Molloy It's the name of Her mom Molloy, I say, my name is Molloy And your mother? What's Her Name?
We realize of course, this is not the self that is dead, all other So we get up, and we went to her mother who feels alive We'll have now to come out from this sort of gap It was so long that I lived far from the words You see, i was enough to see my city Since this is my city, not to be able, you understand You understand that all I needed to see my town for example cause this is my city The sensation of my body was enveloped in anonymity often difficult to penetrate, We just see what I see, I know what the words know and dead things and it makes a pretty small sum With a beginning, a middle and an end, as in well-built sentences We invent nothing, we believe to invent, to escape, It is only stammer his lesson, snatches of a chore learned and forgotten, life without tears, as we weep
And the thing ruined, I do not know what it was, nor, consequently, if not less than the ruins unshakeable confusion of things eternal In any case, a link without mystery, magic