Smoking Gun
Composer(s): D. Amy; Richard Cousins; Robert Cray
Performer(s): Robert Cray



I get a constant busy signal when I call you on the phone
I get a strong uneasy feeling you're not sitting there alone
I'm having nasty nasty visions and baby you're in every one, yeah
And I'm so afraid I'm gonna find you with a still hot, smokin gun

Maybe you want to end it, you've had your fill of my kind of fun
But you don't know how to tell me and you know that I'm not that dumb
I put two and one together and you know that's not an even sum
And I know just where to find you with a still hot, smokin gun

I'm standing here bewildered, I can't remember just what I've done
I can hear the sirens whining, my eyes blinded by the sun
I know that I should be running, my heart's beating just like a drum
Now they've knocked me down and taken it, that still hot, smokin gun

Yeah still hot, smokin gun
Yes they've taken it
Still hot, smokin gun
Oh they've taken it
Still hot, smokin gun
Knocked me down, taken it

Pois É
Composer(s): Chico Buarque; Antonio Carlos Jobim
Performer(s): Chico Buarque;
and various other artists



Pois é
Fica o dito e o redito por não dito
E é difícil dizer que foi bonito
É inútil cantar o que perdi

Taí
Nosso mais-que-perfeito está desfeito
E o que me parecia tão direito
Caiu desse jeito sem perdão

Então
Disfarçar minha dor eu não consigo
Dizer: somos sempre bons amigos
É muita mentira para mim

Enfim
Hoje na solidão ainda custo
A entender como o amor foi tão injusto
Pra quem só lhe foi dedicação

Pois é, e então ...

Smokin' In The Boys' Room
Composer(s): Michael Koda; Michael Lutz
First release by: Brownsville Station - 1973



How you doin' out there? Ya ever seem to have one of those days
Where it just seems like everybody's gettin' on your case?
From your teacher all the way down to your best girlfriend? 
Well, ya know, I used to have 'em just about all the time
But I found a way to get out of 'em
Let me tell you about it!

Sitting in the classroom, thinking it's a drag
Listening to the teacher rap, just ain't my bag
The noon bells rings, you know that's my cue
I'm gonna meet the boys on floor number two!

Smokin' in the boys' room
Smokin' in the boys' room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

Checkin' out the halls, makin' sure the coast is clear
Lookin' in the stalls, "No, there ain't nobody here!"
Oh, my buddy Fang, and me and Paul
To get caught would surely be the death of us all

Smokin' in the boys' room
Smokin' in the boys' room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

All right!
Oh, put me to work, in the school book store
Check out counter and I got bored
Teacher was lookin' for me all around
Two hours later, you know where I was found

Smokin' in the boys' room (Yes indeed, I was)
Smokin' in the boys' room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

One mo'!
Smokin' in the boys' room
Oh, smokin' in the boys' room
Smokin' in the boys' room
Smokin' in the boys' room
Now, teacher, I am fully aware of the rules
And everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school!

Point Me In The Direction Of Albuquerque
Composer(s): Tony Romeo
Performer(s): The Partridge Family



Window walkin' downtown, feelin' mighty good
and I noticed from the corner how all alone she stood
Underneath the lamplight, an angel in disguise
Lonely little runaway with teardrops in her eyes

Crazy little ragdoll, her hair was wild and tossed
and I put my arm around her, 'cause I knew that she was lost
She didn't seem to notice that anyone was near
'till suddenly she turned to me and whispered in my ear

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I want to go home, and help me get home
Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I need to get home, need to get home

Showed me a ticket for a Greyhound bus, her head was lost in time
She didn't know who or where she was
"And anyone that helps me is a real good friend of mine"
Real good friend of mine

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
And help me get home, help me get home

Walked her to the station and kissed away the tears
Knowing I'd remember through all the coming years
Ragdoll on that Greyhound who waved with all her might
Weeped against the window as the bus rolled out of sight

Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I want to go home, and help me get home
Point me in the direction of Albuquerque
I need to get home, need to get home

(Repeat)

Une Petite Française
Composer(s): J. Albertini; O. Toussaint; P. de Senneville
Performer(s): Michèle Torr - 1977



Je n'suis pas Marilyn
Je n'aime pas la nuit
Et dans les magazines
Je ne lis pas ma vie
Je suis une provinciale
Je n'ai pas lu Pascal
J'ai une vie normale
C'est presque original

Une petite française
Née en Provence
Quand elle avait quinze ans
Vint à Paris
Épousa la chanson
Ne changea pas son nom
Et la voilà devant vous aujourd'hui
Une petite française
Née en Provence
Loin de ses jeux d'enfants
S'était enfuie
A-t-elle eu bien raison
De quitter sa maison
Pour se trouver devant vous aujourd'hui

Je n'suis pas une idole
Qu'on aime et qu'on détruit
Je vis mes années folles
Toujours loin de Paris
Et sans avoir de Rolls
Il n'y a pas mieux je crois
Quand je vois quelques gosses
Qui jouent autour de moi

Une petite française
Née en Provence
Quand elle avait quinze ans
Vint à Paris
Épousa la chanson
Ne changea pas son nom
Et la voilà devant vous aujourd'hui
Une petite française
Née en Provence
Loin de ses jeux d'enfants
S'était enfuie
A-t-elle eu bien raison
De quitter sa maison
Pour se trouver devant vous aujourd'hui

Point Blank
Composer(s): Bruce Springsteen
Performer(s): Bruce Springsteen



Do you still say your prayers little darlin'
do you go to bed at night
Prayin' that tomorrow, everything will be alright
But tommorow's fall in number
in number one by one
You wake up and you're dying
you don't even know what from

Well they shot you point blank
you been shot in the back
Baby point blank you been fooled this time
little girl that's a fact
Right between the eyes, baby, point blank
right between the pretty lies that they tell
Little girl you fell

You grew up where young girls they grow up fast
You took what you were handed and left behind what was asked
but what they asked baby wasn't right
you didn't have to live that life
I was gonna be your Romeo you were gonna be my Juliet
These days you don't wait on Romeo's
you wait on that welfare check
and on all the pretty things that you can't ever have
and on all the promises

That always end up point blank, shot between the eyes
Point blank like little white lies you tell to ease the pain
You're walkin' in the sights, girl of point blank
and it's one false move and baby the lights go out

Once I dreamed we were together again
baby you and me
Back home in those old clubs the way we used to be
We were standin' at the bar
it was hard to hear
The band was playin' loud and you were shoutin' somethin' in my ear
You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four
You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor
You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin' slow
And as I pulled you tighter I swore I'd never let you go

Well I saw you last night down on the avenue
Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you
You were standin' in the doorway out of the rain
You didn't answer when I called out your name
You just turned, and then you looked away
like just another stranger waitin' to get blown away

Point blank, right between the eyes
Point blank, right between the pretty lies you fell
Point blank, shot right through the heart

Yea point blank, you've been twisted up till you've become just another part of it
Point blank, you're walkin' in the sights
Point blank, livin' one false move just one false move away
Point blank, they caught you in their sights
Point blank, did you forget how to love
girl, did you forget how to fight
Point blank they must have shot you in the head
'Cause point blank
bang bang baby you're dead

Smokin'
Composer(s): Bradley Delp; Tom Scholz
Performer(s): Boston



We're gonna play you a song, a little bit of rock and roll
You've gotta let yourself go, the band's gonna take control
We're getting' high today
We'll pick you up and take you away, get down tonight

Smokin' Smokin'
We're cookin' tonight just keep on tokin'
Smokin' Smokin'
I feel alright mama I'm not jokin'

Get your feet to the floor everybody rock and roll
You've got nothing' to lose it's just rhythm and blues that's all
You're gonna feel okay
We'll pick you up and take you away, get down tonight

Smokin' Smokin'
We're cookin' tonight just keep on tokin'
Smokin' Smokin'
I feel alright mama I'm not jokin'

Everyone's jumpin', dancin' to a boogie tonight
Clap you hands, move your feet, if you don't know it won't see right
We're getting' high today
We'll pick you up and take you away, get down tonight
Yea you know we're getting high today
We'll pick you up and take you way get down tonight...Alright!

Point
Composer(s): Françoise Hardy
Performer(s): Françoise Hardy



Point
Je n'en ai qu'un
C'est ce qui m'inqiète car il me met bien
Mal en point
Et il me tient
Fort comme un point
Faible sait faire à ce point
C'est un point pas acquis
Un point noir dans ma vie
Jamais un point d'appuis
Point
Pour faire le point
J'essaie de l'interroger plus ou moins
C'est en vain
De point en point
Je tourne en rond
Point d'interrogation
Point sensible qui fait mal
Et pourtant point vital
Et peut-être point final
Point
Je n'en ai qu'un
C'est ce qui m'inqiète car il me met bien
Mal en point
Et il me tient
Fort comme un point
Faible sait faire à ce point
Point
Je n'en ai qu'un
C'est ce qui m'inqiète car il me met bien...

It's Nice To Be In Love Again
First performance by: The Swarbriggs Plus Two - 1977



The sweetest thrill is knowing you're wanted
Never thought I'd feel it again
So long ago I almost forgot it
It's coming back like and old refrain
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when
You say hello and you know it's love
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when
You meet your girl and the world stands still
Your heart is filled with sweet melody
It's nice to be in love again
The sweetest thrill, I couldn't believe it
I hadn't even a friend
This heart of mine was thinking of leaving
Until you came walking 'round that bend
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when you say hello
And you know it's love
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when
You meet your girl and the world stands still
Your heart is filled with sweet melody
It's nice to be in love again
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when
You meet your girl and the world stands still
Your heart is filled with sweet melody
It's nice to be in love again
It's nice to be in love again
That old familiar feeling when you say hello

Poinciana (Song Of The Tree)
(Adapted from: La Canción Del Árbol - 1936)
Composer(s): Nat Simon; Buddy Bernier; Manuel Lliso
Performer(s): Kay Kyser
and various other artists



Blow Tropic wind, sing a song to the trees
Trees sigh to me, soon my love I will see

Poinciana, your branches speak to me of love
Pale moon is casting shadows from above

Poinciana, somehow I feel the jungle heat
Within me there grows a rhythmic savage beat

Love is ev'rywhere, its magic perfume fills the air
To and fro you sway, my heart's in time, I've learned to care

Poinciana, though skies may turn from blue to gray
My love will live forever and a day

Poinciana, from now until the dawning day
I'll learn to love forever, come what may

Smokey Put The Sweat On Me 
Composer(s): Kris Kristofferson
Performer(s): Kris Kristofferson; Lee Hazlewood



I’ve known some women in every state
New york city to the golden gate
I’ve lived with some, and buddy, I loved ’em all (yes, I did)
But no one woman had a claim on me
’cause I still had a lotta world to see
And I sometimes stagger, but sugar, I seldom fall

Then like a hungry man, I went to louisiana
Where the lovin’ and the livin’ was good
Without a care to hide and just as satisfied as I could be
A lotta women and wine and not a tie to bind me
And behaving just as cool as I could
’til that long legged, sweet walkin’ ravenhaired cajun lookin’
Devil put the sweat on me

They call her smokey, she’s a little bit-a evil
Smokey, right as wrong can be
Smokey, she could shake the very devil
Smokey put the sweat on me

Oh, my pulse is a beatin’ to the clickety clack
Of this one-way ride that’s gonna take me back
And my body’s just a-breathin’ in that mississippi river smell
Well, my feet wasn’t ready yet for settling down
But my soul kept tellin’ me to turn around
And the longer I tried to fight it, the harder I fell

And like a hungry man, I went to louisiana
Where the lovin’ and the livin’ is good
I’ll get a brand new bride and be as satisfied as I can be
And I won’t even mind the world I’m leavin’ behind
Because I never really thought that I could
’til that long legged, sweet walkin’ ravenhaired cajun looking devil
Put the sweat on me

They call her smokey, she’s a little bit-a evil
Smokey, right as wrong can be
Smokey, she could shake the very devil
Smokey put the sweat on me
Smokey put the sweat on me
Awww, smokey put the sweat on me

Poi Passa
((English & French Versions: I'll Be There (by Charles Aznavour); Ça Passe (by Charles Aznavour))
Composer(s): Charles Aznavour - Georges Garvarentz - Bob Raggio
Performer(s): Charles Aznavour



Poi passa, il male un giorno sparira'
Poi passa, il cuore poi cancellera'
La farsa e smettero' la corsa
Di vivere per te, morire dietro a te
Poi passa
E l'ora in cui non saro' piu' comparsa
Risaliro' fin dove tu scomparsa
Sarai soltanto assente ed io di nuovo amante
Poi passa
Col fiato in gola prendero' la corsa
Di strade grandi che non so'
E allora, ancora io ripetero'
Ti amo, ti amo...

Poi passa
Pian piano il fuoco brucia ma si abbassa
Col tempo non sarai che un po' di tosse
Che a vino caldo e amore so'
Che passa, poi passa, poi passa
E allora ancora io ripetero'
Ti amo, ti amo...

Ancora io ripetero'
Ti amo, ti amo
Poi passa
Col fiato in gola prendero' la corsa
Di strade grandi che non so'
E allora, ancora lo ripetero'
Ti amo,
Ti amo ...

Der Star
First performance by: Tony Marshall - 1976



Du kennst sein Gesicht, seinen Namen
Den Geburtstag weißt du im Schlaf
Sein Bild hängt in deinem Zimmer
Er Iächelt zu dir herab
Jetzt sitzt du in dem Konzertsaal
Auf der Bühne dort steht der Mann
Von dem du so oft geträumt hast
Und das Licht geht für ihn an

Wunderbar, wunderbar
Wunderbar singt er seine Lieder
Nur für dich so scheint es dir
Und du hörst sie immer wieder
Wunderbar, wunderbar
Wunderbar sind all seine Lieder
Noch einmal erklingt die Musik
Du schaust ihn an und singst leise mit

Er ist kein Held und kein König
Kein Bettler und kein Scharlatan
Von allem ist er nur ein wenig
Drum bist du in seinem Bann
Ins Publikum wirft er die Blumen
Es klatscht und jubelt ihm zu
Eine Rose hältst du in den Händen
Ud fühlst dich mit ihm per du

Wunderbar, wunderbar
Wunderbar singt er seine Lieder
Nur für dich so scheint es dir
Und du hörst sie immer wieder
Wunderbar, wunderbar
Wunderbar sind all seine Lieder
Noch einmal erklingt die Musik
Du schaust ihn an und singst leise mit

Aber nichts weißt du von seinem Herzen
Und du glaubst alles ist wunderbar
Denn du siehst ihn nur im Glanz der Bühne
Und dort ist er und bleibt er der Star - der Star

Poetry Man
Composer(s): Phoebe Snow
Performer(s): Phoebe Snow;
and various other artists



And ooh yeah-yeah-yeah
Ooh yeah

You make me laugh
'Cause your eyes they light the night
They look right through me, la la la la
You bashful boy
You're hiding something sweet
Please give it to me yeah, to me

Oh-oh, talk to me some more
You don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
You make things all rhyme, yeah-yeah

And ooh yeah-yeah-yeah
Ooh yeah

You are a genie
And all I ask for is your smile
Each time I rub a lamp, la la la la
When I am with you
I have a giggling teen-age crush
Then I'm a-a sultry vamp, yeah, a sultry vamp

Woah-oh, talk to me some more
You don't have to go
'Cause you're the Poetry Man
You make things all right, yeah-yeah

And ooh yeah-yeah-yeah
Ooh yeah

Talk to me some more
You don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
And you make things all right

And ooh yeah-yeah-yeah
Ooh yeah

So once again
It's time to say so long
And so recall the law of life, la la la la
You're goin' home now
Oh, home's that place somewhere you go each day
To see your wife, yeah-yeah-yeah, to see your wife

Woah-oh, talk to me some more
You know that you don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
You make things all rhyme, yeah 

Woah-oh, talk to me some more
You know that you don't have to go
You're the Poetry Man
You make things all right

Smokey Places
Composer(s): Abner Spector
Performer(s): The Corsairs



Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
Dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places

Oh oh how I cried
On your wedding day
Like, like my heart would break
How you regret your wedding day
Now paying for your bad mistake

Mmmmmm
Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
Oh we are dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places

Some sunny day
He will set you free
Free to be my life
Some sunny day
Sweetheart, he'll set you free
We'll be, we'll be satified

Meeting in smokey places
Hiding in shadowy corners
We just keep dancing where no one knows our faces
Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places

Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places

Sharing love stolen in the night
In smokey places

Poetry In Motion 
Composer(s): Paul Kaufman; Mike Anthony
Performer(s): Johnny Tillotson



When I see my baby
What do I see?
Poetry
Poetry in motion …

Poetry in motion
Walking by my side
Her lovely locomotion
Keeps my eyes open wide

Poetry in motion
See her gentle sway
A wave out on the ocean
Could never move that way

I love every moment
There's nothing I would change
She doesn't need improvement
She's much too nice to rearrange

Poetry in motion
Dancing  close to me
A flower of devotion
A-swaying gracefully

Oh
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa

Poetry in motion
See her gentle sway
A wave out on the ocean
Could never move that way

I love every moment
There's nothing I would change
She doesn't need improvement
She's much too nice to rearrange

Poetry in motion
All that I adore
No number-nine love potion
Could make me love he more

Oh
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
A-whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa

Ne Mogu Skriti Svoju Bol
First performance by: Ambasadori - 1976



Voljela tebe samo sam ja

Kako da bol skrijem svoj
kako da bol sad skrijem svoj
prazni su dani, a nisi moj
prazni su dani, a nisi moj
nekad smo bili samo mi
nekad smo bili samo mi
al' ode onog ljeta, u oku osta sjeta

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Kuda li sad lutas ti
kuda sada lutas ti
hladan mi vjetar krade san
hladan vjetar krade san
kako je bila topla noc
kako je bila topla noc
kad ode onog ljeta, u oku osta sjeta

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Ne molim da se vratis
al' molim te da pamtis
voljela tebe samo sam ja

Poetry & Jazz
Performer(s): John Otway



She said "It's hard for me to explain to you 
the brightness of the light
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did
She was a virgin then, a child in a million
With deep round hazel eyes of bazing intuition
She called me over to her side and said "Will you please listen
I wanna show you something and it's something I've just written
And I'm calling it Poetry & Jazz"

She watched her happy family turn to a broken home
Her father left with someone else, her mother on her own
Her fourteenth birthday, her mother spent in tears
She celebrated on her own, her adolescent years.
It was hell then, caught in the crossfire
Of an emotional triangle she couldn't keep together
I heard her softly as she sobbed upon my shoulder
Saying "As you are the closest thing I've got to a brother
Explain to me why is life so sad"

Sixteen was better 'cause sixteen was boys
Make-up parties alcohol and clothes
And saying to your boyfriend "Come on get out of bed
Look, its three o clock in the afternoon and my mother's coming back"
And she smiled then, her eyes filled with laughter
She didn't know if it was love, but it didn't really matter
She called me on the phone and said "Hey get this big brother
I just got rid of one boyfriend and got myself another
And listen, this one drives a Jag"

She left school and boyfriends for university
Three years of study for an art degree
Her clothes were outrageous her hair was many colours
Her work was radical and so were her ideas
She said "This is brilliant this place is heaven
On a score of one to ten, I'd give this place eleven
It kicks you up the ass and it fires you with ambition
I often used to feel as if my life was just a prison
Now I realise it isn't quite that bad"

I was invited to an exhibition a little while ago
To an art gallery in Paris where she has a studio
She looked sophisticated she was wearing a bronze tan
And she'd sold all her work for some outrageous sum
And I looked at her and I started laughing
I said look you're supposed to be an artist you're supposed to be suffering
And she just smiled back and pointed to this painting
Of a young girl around which she'd written out this poem
She'd shown me once called Poetry & Jazz

My name is Angela I am twelve years old
I've given up on working hard and doing as I'm told
I see a child psychologist who's spotted in my head
A recipe for delinquency or something just as bad
But I'll fight for my independence
I see the world in another way to my teachers and my parents
My priorities are different and my life is not as aimless
I am not disruptive and I'm not dangerous
I've rhythm and purpose like poetry & jazz

She said "It's hard for me to explain to you, the brightness of the light
I can still remember when my life was like that
A real and painless beauty I remember as a kid
When I thought that I knew everything and in a way I did

Smokey Mountain Rain
Composer(s): Kye Fleming; Dennis Morgan
Performer(s): Ronnie Milsap; T.G. Sheppard



I found my way from LA back to Knoxville
I found out those bright lights aint where I belong
From a phone booth in the rain I called to tell her
I've had a change of dreams I'm comin' home
But tears filled my eyes when I found out she was gone

Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain

I waved a diesel down outside of Cathey
He said that he was goin' as far a Catlenburgh
I climbed up in the cab all wet and cold and lonely
I wiped my eyes and told him about her
I've got to find her!
Can you make these big wheels burn?

Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain

I can't blame her for lettin' go
A woman needs someone warm to hold
I feel the rain runnin' down my face
I'll find her no matter what it takes!

Smokey Mountain rain keeps on fallin'
I keep on callin' her name
Smokey Mountain rain I'll keep on searchin'
I can't go on hurtin' this way
She's somewhere in the Smokey Mountain rain

Poète, Vos Papiers!
Composer(s): Léo Ferré
Performer(s): Léo Ferré



Bipède volupteur de lyre
Epoux châtré de Polymnie
Vérolé de lune à confire
Grand-Duc bouillon des librairies
Maroufle à pendre à l'hexamètre
Voyou décliné chez les Grecs
Albatros à chaîne et à guêtres
Cigale qui claque du bec

Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, vos papiers!

J'ai bu du Waterman et j'ai bouffé Littré
Et je repousse du goulot de la syntaxe
A faire se pâmer les précieux à l'arrêt
La phrase m'a poussé au ventre comme un axe

J'ai fait un bail de trois six neuf aux adjectifs
Qui viennent se dorer le mou à ma lanterne
Et j'ai joué au casino les subjonctifs
La chemise à Claudel et les cons dits "modernes"

Syndiqué de la solitude
Museau qui dévore du couic
Sédentaire des longitudes
Phosphaté des dieux chair à flic
Colis en souffrance à la veine
Remords de la Légion d'honneur
Tumeur de la fonction urbaine
Don Quichotte du crève-cœur

Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, Papier!

Le dictionnaire et le porto à découvert
Je débourre des mots à longueur de pelure
J'ai des idées au frais de côté pour l'hiver
A rimer le bifteck avec les engelures

Cependant que Tzara enfourche le bidet
A l'auberge dada la crotte est littéraire
Le vers est libre enfin et la rime en congé
On va pouvoir poétiser le prolétaire

Spécialiste de la mistoufle
Emigrant qui pisse aux visas
Aventurier de la pantoufle
Sous la table du Nirvana
Meurt-de-faim qui plane à la Une
Ecrivain public des croquants
Anonyme qui s'entribune
A la barbe des continents

Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, documenti!

Littérature obscène inventée à la nuit
Onanisme torché au papier de Hollande
Il y a partouze à l'hémistiche mes amis
Et que m'importe alors Jean Genet que tu bandes

La poétique libérée c'est du bidon
Poète prends ton vers et fous-lui une trempe
Mets-lui les fers aux pieds et la rime au balcon
Et ta muse sera sapée comme une vamp

Citoyen qui sent de la tête
Papa gâteau de l'alphabet
Maquereau de la clarinette
Graine qui pousse des gibets
Châssis rouillé sous les démences
Corridor pourri de l'ennui
Hygiéniste de la romance
Rédempteur falot des lundis

Poète, vos papiers!
Poète, salti!

Que l'image soit rogue et l'épithète au poil
La césure sournoise certes mais correcte
Tu peux vêtir ta Muse ou la laisser à poil
L'important est ce que ton ventre lui injecte

Ses seins oblitérés par ton verbe arlequin
Gonfleront goulûment la voile aux devantures
Solidement gainée ta lyrique putain
Tu pourras la sortir dans la Littérature

Ventre affamé qui tend l'oreille
Maraudeur aux bras déployés
Pollen au rabais pour abeille
Tête de mort rasée de frais
Rampant de service aux étoiles
Pouacre qui fait dans le quatrain
Masturbé qui vide sa moelle
A la devanture du coin

Poète .... circulez!
Circulez poète!
Circulez!