.Ils sont partis sans crier gare
Avec leurs mômes et leurs guitares, nos frères gitans de Saint-Ouen.
Elles sont parties, Ã tire-d'aile
Et sans retour, les hirondelles, Paris n'en avait plus besoin.
Flots de béton et de bêtise
Faut des drugstores et du strip-tease, des buildi.
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