You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
You
the
the
the
the
the
the
the
You know what that is?
You know what it is?
It's my feather!
It's my feather!
It's beautiful!
It's beautiful!
There's paper and paint!
There's everything!
There's even a stove!
It's me who makes a stove!
You're going to love both of them!
Come here!
Come here!
You're going to love both of them!
Just tell me what you're doing!
You're going to love both of them!
A fridge
A pretty scooter
A mixer
A kitchen
With a glass of glass
And a frying pan
A tourniquet
To make the vinaigrette
A nice air-conditioner
To taste the odors
A heater
A pistol
And we'll be happy!
And we'll be happy!
Always the black wool
The black cloud
I've been a gleam
Into the dark
I'm rude
I'm rude
I'm rude
Take the stream
What kind of heart
I've done is here
I'm just a blind guy
I'm a blind guy
I'm rude
What are you doing, C preparation?
I haven't prepared the food
I'm still hungry
It's a very basic dish
Please stress that
Eat away
My teeth
Don't worry
I told you
who was making the tricot behind the zinc.
For his dear nephew,
I think,
since there was no more mountain passes
to tricot for the pebbles,
that the war was over,
that after having buried so many dead,
we would only have to take care
of burying the living.
We take off.
We take off.
