Nevermore brothel

He was a silent child who played on a white carpet

In the main room of the Nevermore Brothel

Lady, his mother, was sitting, knitting under a blanket

In the dimming light of the Nevermore Brothel

He was working on a giant toy, a kind of great machine

And asked his mother “Why are you my mom?”

She replied and told him that she’d always been mean

To him as if he’d been a grown-up

The boy then stopped and went to kiss his mother’s hand

Sat at her side, the woman then laughed out:

« You carry your soul like a broken arm

In a loosened white and stained scarf »

She stretched her legs and let her head fall back

On the green couch of the Nevermore Brothel

As she was looking at him, his eyes turned black

He stood and beat her in the Nevermore Brothel

From the door came the father in his old costume

And then he… Then he jumped on his son

And then he strangled him!

The mother then broke a bottle of cheap perfume

As if to say “I’m quite fed up with my knit.

And… Anyway… You are BOTH as BORING as my SILLY WORK!

I’d rather DIE right now, my life is done!

MY LIFE IS DONE!”

Daddy dropped his son and laughed mouth wide

In the main room of the Nevermore Brothel

The son, cheerful, ran to his mother’s side

And danced around her in the Nevermore Brothel