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My Face
par
John Hartford
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My face, I don't mind it I'm standing behind it It hangs down in front by my hair It studies the cards All the aces and spade But it don't have to call which they are I've taught it to smile And to wrinkle its nose And to froth at the mouth when its mad I've taught it to yawn And to laugh and to snarl And to hang out its lip when its sad My face, I don't mind it I live here behind it Quite tightly it's wedged 'tween my ears It acts like a wall Over which lies the world So they can't read my hopes or my fears In front of my chin Past the sights and the smells And the songs and the sounds of the horns Of the traffic and blaring And honking and screeching Of time since the day i was born My face, if you find it I'm back here behind it Its only a mask for the soul It don't have no lines You can follow as such For its only a part not the whole While you could be talking Or snarling or coughing Or holding your head while you weep In back of this face i could Watch or be singing Or sometimes i might be asleep
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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