"Humiliate me, I like it; trample me, I love it; make me poor and miserable, I'll take my sorrows away with a little rum and music. I aspire to nothing more. Only to be happy in my scarcity, my humidity and my peeling walls. I don't need freedom, I prefer chains. It's enough for me to move a little and forget the rest. I prefer your crumbs to having to find the whole loaf of bread myself. Meanwhile, life goes by between jokes, blackouts and queues, but I'm happy in my own way, with my empty pot, my empty refrigerator and my speakers at full volume. I drown in the dance, I move to the floor, I hold on carefully to the limping dresser and the worm-eaten table, but I enjoy the atmosphere, the company, the last bottle. It doesn't have to have a brand or quality, just enough alcohol to not think about anything else, to alienate myself towards sexuality. So, with warm blood, I'll go to bed with you on the mattress with the springs sticking out. Tomorrow will be another day, the water will have gone down. My problems will rise, but I'll keep laughing. Until death."