Long being I challenged Evain Oubaali to a fight
and long before airplanes would drop bombs upon the city
I wandered around the Catacombs.
You see, the oldest parts of Gévaudan are built
upon stones and bones.
You see, the oldest parts of Gévaudan are built
upon stones and bones.
A web of unlit tunnels used by fellow thieves and
where other criminals would gather
where other criminals would gather
to sell loot
or their bodies
or call gambles
or deal weapons and drugs.
To these Gévaudiansor their bodies
or call gambles
or deal weapons and drugs.
my accent marked me as a dirty Verlan,
a bastard from one of the colonies.
I knew I could be a great painter one day
but I knew I would never be one of them.
My accent would eventually ease a bit
but at the time I would steal their clothes and
dance with them in their masquerades,
saying little and picking out my marks for future burglaries.
The Catacombs didn’t reject me
but only because it didn’t reject anyone.
The old saints carved upon tombstones
looked down on me not in scorn
but in pity.
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