| Sofa Head believed that his head was full of hair
|
| Not like a hamster, more like an armchair
|
| His father said to Sofa Head:
|
| «The shards of mechanical time
|
| Are biting each soft second
|
| As they filter through your mind.»
|
| His mother said to Sofa Head
|
| «Why do you wear your hair so long?»
|
| And Sofa Head said
|
| «KICK OUT THE JAMS, MOTHER!!»
|
| And they had marmalade
|
| And kicked the pantry out into the street and lived happily ever after
|
| I think that silence is appropriate, and it shall remain appropriate
|
| His father said to Sofa Head
|
| «My son, I give to thee
|
| The total of my lifetime’s work
|
| An alcoholic legacy
|
| The ballpoint blue of old tattoos
|
| The shrieks of a drunken whore
|
| The wine-red stains on both the plains
|
| A slip on the lavatory floor.»
|
| Sofa Head believed that his head was full of hair
|
| Not like a hamster, more like an armchair
|
| And Sofa Head was sure he could pull out
|
| More and more and more and more…
|
| They say that I’m unusual, but I don’t think that’s true
|
| In fact I’m just as usual as any one of you!
|
| And you are just as usual as any one of me!
|
| We are all, as usual, a usual family
|
| We’re usual, we’re usual, we’re usual, we’re usual
|
| We are usual! |