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Little boy, thin and small.
Never had a friend, always on his own.
Other children bite and kick him.
Beat and *** him.
Cut and slash his face.
Scratch his innards with blades.
Make him eat his own liver.
Even read his mail.
Poor creature, sad and lost.
Flies lay in his nose when he sleeps at night.
Rabid neighbours bite and kick him.
Beat and *** him.
Pierce his eyes with nails throw his ears to the sea.
Stick some cheese deep in his ***.
Make it eat by a thousand mice.
All this for one good reason:
the boy's got something, really different.
The boy's got something that's not the same.
He's got the stuff that makes the different.
And people hate it, it's just a shame.
He's dressed like Pazuzu.
Not in pink and blue.
Dressed like Pazuzu.
Pauvre petit chouchou.
Not in pink and blue.
