Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Replacement Globe Hampton Bay

Renaud (1954-1995)


You kiss them during the month of January because a new promotion starts, but in recent years have your sentences much changed. When did you got your gun, ammunition fell, you have swapped Dominica, muse of yesteryear, cons Romane, blonde Arielle Dombasle péroxinée version without talent. With your fellow citizens and the sores, you preferred to abandon the drawing to Dede against a brand new 4 April to justify your newsletter and green to resemble those five hundred assholes.

Yet you seem more sensitive, the Baltic is more hilarious but the poor dog without an owner which is prevented from returning to a church. Your texts corrosive flew with your voice. Now similar to nuclear waste, buries it with your ideas, but will mark the new fans of Renaud, while concealing your biography when fags stop your life. But the lost love that brought you back in the projos is now you make a fool since you've found and you got the same fact missed an entire album.

However, you may reopen the gas chambers, voted Sarko or continue to sing we love you still. You rocked our childhood, guided our lives and our opinions, you became our friend when we was alone in his room. You make one of those artists who have succeeded before the others to reintroduce musette style that prevailed in the past PTIS dances on Saturday night. And it's not the fucking white hair that you hide or slyly this faint voice at the same time as the rebel who we turn away from you. We always lay an ear to your new album if you have the wrong idea of producing others. Long life to the dead singer in you!

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