Once upon a time there was a tiny little filthy rat,
shallow and dry as an empty nut shell,
born in the same Lafayette Street in Paris where he died,
too tired of trying long time before slashing the first body in two.
You could tell the whole thing by taking a glimpse into his cold black eyes.
And then,
for a second,
you had the chance to choose.
Cause after that there was no turning back.
You were to pull yourself together
or to become a double you.
There's not much more to say about him.
He killed many in double and once got cut into little perfect cubes.
And though his eyes survived inside my nightmares,
I won't forget that once I glanced and run
and found the words to tell the world
that once upon a time I met a tiny little filthy rat and I survived.
