You just listen to bad music all the fucking time; I know you have two pillows next to your bed and all your fucking bad music and you spread your shit all over the place. When I come to your place, you give me lots of things: a pair of white slippers, a piece of bread, half a lemon coupe. Every single time you kiss me goodbye, rubbing the lemon on my lips. I like the white slppers, I wear them and I eat the bread.