ur sleeping on the couch

(the pretty french girls, however...)

the pretty french boys will have to wait. they can sit in their cafes in their moody black turtle necks with their poetry on the table next to bitter cups of dark-and-brooding coffee, they will have to smoke their foreign cigars alone. they will have to sip rosé on balconies without me, they will have to walk through brick paved streets with their hearts in their hands. the pretty french boys will have to wait. they will have to ride yellow two seater bicycles by themselves, they will have to listen to their obscure indie music on their own, they will have to watch foreign noir films in their own company. they will have to spend their money on bus tickets and pens instead of jewels and roses. the pretty french boys will have to wait.