Hodgepodge à la Patate
Wherever you smell, it smells rancid. Something is rotten in the state of Earth.
Wherever you smell, it smells rancid. Something is rotten in the state of Earth.
Why do I feel the tyrannical urge to rehash the past excesses of Vieux Patate?
He left the city, he left this world too, he left without leaving any address, he never had.
Everything you said about me is false, shameful and could not be heavier. I’m hallucinating.
The days without Vieux Patate have gone down the drain. I forgot all about them.
Potato Hot, yo, like a French fries stall. Hot as embers, the blessed beggar.
Who cares about the Rule? The Flawless Warrior. Who cares about the warrior?
Reach out, spit on the ground, wooden well, iron spell, if I lie I go to hell…
On the dusty roads Ficelle sang. He invents his choruses with his daily life, his setbacks and his gains
All the old folks are losing their heads. What do you think? Why would I be an exception?
Try body outings, astral encounters, control of invisible forces etc.
Astral-flyers question their flight and their astral perceptions