I'm sitting here and thinking about this messy situation and how your stupid words have brought us only complications. And you just had so many words but nothing real to say and that was something that I found but it was just too late. It seems I only think of you... I don't believe it was me that made the first move, I don't believe that you did it to me once again, I don't believe you could leave something so good. What more can I do? I leave it up to you! It seems the less you speak, the more I want you here with me but something funny tells me that ain't how it's gonna be so I pretend as though I never cared and forget those times that we both have shared. This is killing me with no one else...
I really don't like your point of view, I know you'll never change stingin' me with your attitude. I've got the mind to walk away. When the night always ends with a fight I'm excited that you wind up next to me. Satisfy my needs! Sometimes I fake that I hate you and make up so you wind up next to me. I really don't like your skinny jeans so take them off for me, show me what you've got underneath so we can do this properly... I really don't like the way you smile when you think you're right but I will forgive you, the yolk is in the middle and I'm chewing through the white. I dreamed that you were on a train, you were leaving, made me think of what I'd miss... Do you believe it?
Mais moi je t'aime et j'veux encore fumer longtemps à ses côtés, puis tous ces messages de drogués, That 70's show, ta gueule dans mes draps, mes mains qui tremblent, le bus magique, chercher ce qui te ressemble chez les autres, surtout le matin, dans le métro, découvrir les joies du re-internet, Baby en boucle, la blonde qu'on aime, la blonde qui sera toujours là, et les centaines d'autres blondes et celui qui est trop loin, tous ces mannequins, ma vie en Super 8, ta gueule en tirage express, des photos d'ados, j'suis accro (à ta peau), les cours qui n'en finissent pas, sa gueule que j'peux plus voir, ça va mieux, là tout de suite, quelque chose entre les doigts et puis des kilos envolés, de l'argent empoché, des projets et puis encore... encore le matin, le métro, sa gueule que j'peux plus voir, ça va mieux, là tout de suite, le fauteuil de ma blonde et encore fumer longtemps à ses côtés, tous ces messages de drogués, ta gueule dans mes draps... encore encore parce que trois ans, c'est (presque) rien.
Morgan moves back to the familiar charms of his fiery days when Morgan still felt something. No longer. Morgan's like a slave, three feet of paper and a family of four. Morgan wonders why his wife is so slow, blames his wife for his slow love. He shakes his head as he climbs into bed, grits his teeth as he moves between the sheets. Morgan feels like sudden laughter when he sees. Excellent! He doesn't sleep much on account of a terrible pain in his head and sometimes Morgan sits up in the loft reading from a book of children's stories. Now listen! Well, I'm not trying to question your decision, in my opinion you've made an excellent choice. I don't want to put the doubt in your mind. In my head, well, you're just fine. Excellent choice. Jaws no ordinary sucking harder, sagging eyelids & pocked cheeks, intelligent the television buzzes & crackles & preaches. Morgan feels like his family have made a conscious effort to cause him misery. His taste buds have deserted, sneaking away from his wife's cooking. Morgan dreads the family meal, clenching one hand under the table. The bland wall hangings nod at the food in recognition. They are far too familiar with one another. Morgan's work for minimum wage is no comfort whatsoever. He thinks about the items that have sapped his money over the years, shoe polish, oven cleaner, vacuum bags, sugar substitute. A pathetic collection of unwanted gifts and dream-sapping commerce. Any creative reserves once stored are long gone. Morgan seethes at the realisation he has given his children too much of the little he has. Morgan wishes his family dead. I'm so happy that you've finally found your voice. I don't want to put the doubt in your mind. Lacking imagination, and full of despair, Morgan turns tail and leaves without a word. The door shuts compliantly as he moves outside. Morgan crunches down the path with regular, driven feet, pushing through the grey clouds escaping his mouth. Approaching the train tracks, he sighs, lays flat across the line, and shuts his eyes.
Right, birds can fly so high and they can shit on your head and they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared. But when you look at them and you see that they're beautiful, that's how I feel about you. She said « Thanks, I like you too », he said « cool »
J'ai même pas vu que t'étais rien, que tu étais morte de chagrin, que tu étais seule comme un vieux chien, que tu faisais la gueule dans ton coin. J'ai même pas vu que t'étais mal, que ta peau était pire que pâle. T'avais plus faim, t'avais que dalle, que tu flottais dans le canal. J'ai même pas vu que tu étais diaphane, que tu étais comme une fleur qui fane, les yeux rivés dans les embruns, que tu serrais trop fort ma main. Oui dès vingt heures trente, je n'ai pas de c½ur, je n'ai que ma queue... Je n'ai même pas vu que j'étais nul, que j'étais plus que ridicule, que j'étais tout seul dans ma bulle. Crétin, crâneur, cassant, crédule. J'ai même pas vu que t'étais braque, que t'étais comme une porte qui claque, que ce soir là sur le Tarmac, tu voulais tant vider ton sac... Tout ça me tourmente - Benjamin Biolay donne le coup de grâce.