Lyrics:
Phonnet LVIII , lyrics by W. Shakespeare Sonnet LVIII That god forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times
à bord, mets ta ceinture Ça fume, ça boit, des fois, ça tombe, ça s'fait péter, on t'met rotte-ca Les soucis donnent le tournis, samedi, dans l'VIII
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