Let me introduce myself,
l'm the artist.
Somebody told me yesterday:
'Sure enough
Your voice is shrill
You slap three chords
On a wasted steel-guitar.' 

I dont care.
In my neighbourhood,
I'm the king of Erquy Street.

I had written a song
Supposed to be sad.
To make my way, I made a CD
That I forced on my neighbours
Who sold it on the day alter.

A producer told me:
'You're ready for the stage.
You will play for 3000 people next week.
With your sloppy manners,
You can do the Festival of Fool.'