.Les timides, ça s'tortille, ça s'entortille, ça sautille
Ãa s'met en vrille, ça s'recroqueville, ça rêve d'être un lapin
Peu importe d'où ils sortent, mais feuilles mortes
Quand le vent les porte, devant nos portes
On dirait qu'ils portent une valise dans chaque main
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