He is so beautiful and so fragile under his rain armor, which is taken under my remarks. When I make fun of him, his opinion changes as time goes by. He is in a hurry, my knight. He doesn't like his job too much, he misunderstands you for an idiot. Every time the alarm goes off, he wants to change the tempo. But it's too late, he is already in the subway, my knight. My knight of Pagoda, my little one. It's the rats that look beautiful in the eyes of girls. But don't look at me, my knight, gone to war. Against windmills, Don Quixote and Trentenaire. But he is still a child, my knight. He doesn't like to read books too much, but he likes Michel Houellebecq. He doesn't like French cinema, prefers porn on the internet. When we make love, he turns off the light, my knight. He tells me that at 30 years old, he still feels young. To have children, it may not be the time. I ask him if he loves me, he doesn't want to commit, my knight. My knight of Pagoda, my little one. It's the rats that look beautiful in the eyes of girls. But don't look at me, my knight, gone to war. Against windmills, Don Quixote and Trentenaire. But he is still a child, my knight. Don't look at me, my knight.