[France is quite clearly in the arena, cooking at one of the stoves, apron on and swinging her hips as she
sings quietly to herself. Her rose is next to her, fully bloomed and a dark red. She smiles at the vine.]
Cuizi c'est quoi!
Ta position favorite~Ahaha, I'm not sure why, but I am in a good mood... This is a rather lovely day though, so I
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I thought I heard a cat being strangled.
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Ne t'en va pas
J'me suis pas préparée du tout
À t' regarder
Plonger à pieds joints dans ce trou
Creusé pour toi
Et au-d'ssus duquel un curé
Te survivra
En prônant des absurdités
Je hais déjà
Celui qui aurait maquillé
D'un teint trop mat
Ton doux visage inanimé
Ne t'en va guère
Je n' connais même pas les fleurs
Que tu préfères
Pour te les j'ter par dessus coeur~
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You could appreciate it a little more! Those were very pure feelings being expressed!
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Well what do you bloody want me to say in response to that?!
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Yooo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!
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[Oh God, what is she singing, what is this...]
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[England cannot help but sing even if she is internally horrified. 90s pop! Help!]
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[... What the hell was that.] ... I really want to sing a decent song.
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That was terrible and should never be mentioned again.
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