The French Joker.

When falling down a solid staircase made of love and decay, you can'thelp but feel a little sting. The girl with golden curls is no longer whitin my grasp, a boy with chestnut hair is sitting by her side. They are in the beginning stages of affection, the hunt, the thrill. I wouldn't know anything about that, cause I'm on the sidelines watching them play. But there is a french guy who lightens the load of being strange, his attitude to trip still uknown, amazes me. Be whoever you want, whenever you want.