History of France by a Pro Russian -- Indian.
Hey, Excuse me: Madame la baronne.
Look. This isn't funny, ok. And, stop looking up these weird funny French words on Google. Got it, you Indian Expat or er drat Mister Expatriate with Er-This doen't-loo-Right Dubious papers! You aren't Mister Adolfo Kaminsky, ok? Go -- at least -- read his unofficial biography at a stretch -- Mister page boy -- Next time -- you fidgeting with our security and all -- and, snooping -- lurking -- or hovering around me -- on me into my Telly room, whatever -- I'd get real mad -- and might've you prosecuted -- persecuted or maybe executed. I'm not Mata Hari either. Stop reading those spy novels. No. French tea, coffee or cocktail juice. Just go. Ok. Weirdo.
Okay. I apologize . . . . Miss Aztec goddess!
What's that, huh? What cordless phone? Thief. Put it back.
Nope. Miss....so you're a high-school drop-out or something?
Nope. Why? You want me to work for you huh?
I don't know. But, strictly speaking -- basic certs and credentials. You don't have it, right. Dunno. Let me think about it. I usually don't circumvent Ministry of External Affairs you know protocols and all.
History. Read historians with serious and venomous bias and prejudices first.
Look Mister Miniature The Bodhi Tree Saint. Take a walk, ok?
Okay, put on your snickers then -- Ozone-friendly, ok.
This is France. This is not India. So behave yourself. I'm a public figure. And, you're real nobody. Got it?
Don't sulk. Don't boy. Mister Boy scout. Sissy. Want this skirt or is it too skimpy -- for you at least huh?
Blue, Miss?
Damn you.
Cross-dresser huh?
No. Fashion Telly channels surfer.
LOL
The way she L-O-Ls.
God. Not another petty crime. Pompous word -- crazy rhyme.
Franc or dime. Miss or Dame. Let's play Snakers and Ladders. Or Chess -- still your favorite game?
Hey. Mister Caricature.
Yep Miss Future Shock. Alwin Toeffler. Good writer eh?
LOL How did you find me huh? You don't know anybody except that Alexander?
Oh I thought he's from some Greek or Roman Mythology. French eh?
Nope. Honestly, I was looking for a Spanish song. Dunno. All of a sudden. Really impulsively. Then, you materialized in pixels. Low resolution CRT. Eve. Or Virtual Reality. Serendipity. BTW, Miss Tell me something how'd you let Colonel Sanders exploit your indigenous french small-scale industry For instance: French Fries in KFC?
Infrigment of Intelletual property. You don't sue giants and corporates -- you intimidated this Lilliputian Indian-Princely-State-Prince! The Crown Prince of In whose hand is the scroll of Indus Valley Civilization. Was that Alexander that cruel and unjust as well? But you don't know your own history -- How'd you justify moral anarchy -- cultural deviancy -- the massacre of everything French -- The only thing that makes the sun rise again and again on this horizon is the song you sing -- the homage you pay -- for those unsong -- Flag bearers of French revolution.
So you're blabbling -- dunno something -- La Isla Bonito. And, I looked it up Just-the-same-as-always -- and, it's interpretation of the meaning This is where I love to be -- and you looked -- you know a wee bit somewhat pretty and all -- Unapprecialy different or so than an average Iranian Princess or Persian la-di-da -- or Bedouin Evil Eye! And, I wasn't doing anything really serious -- so I replayed your this sound bytes and all -- and this computer got stuck -- so I cursed it real bad -- and, concurrently there's this eternal unsheduled power shutdown. So, I decided to go to shack and have tea and all. That's all. I don't even rememeber...vague sketchy hazy account -- anyways, bye. Okay. Some -- this telly anchor wants to meet him -- real desperate -- she's some queen and all -- so I'll see you around...have fun. Sing something sing-along type song you juke box one time song wonder -- oops I don't have change -- no coins no BMI check -- karaoke poster girl -- Go. Sit in a cosy corner of this room-temperated controlled semi e-Home -- and read Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky -- and how this Alexander turned into a deserter -- okay -- seize this serendipitious moment o goddess of france's destiny -- the real for mutiny -- seige huh -- wanna some custard dessert in the emirati desert corniche -- real yummy -- by the way -- the way you dance -- that's bombshell -- and bayonet charge -- you're my POW -- what powwow -- thumb impression on this yep instrument of surrender -- La Isla Bonito. Indian Tyrant with a French Princess in a dungeon. Who'd rescue you? Knight is here. Dark Horse is here. Shining Armor is here. You are here. I am here. So what are you waiting for -- La Isla . . . . Atrocities of...war crimes -- tribunal..Indian Field Marshal with you in-person to quell quench every rebellion...Nope no rats only Shrews and rodents. Get some sleep. G'Knight.
Your words give me the galloping feats
The razor sharp cutting edge to my words
The flare that ends the beginnings of battles and war
A blank shot -- and there you see is the General's pride buried
That crazy sharpnel -- oh did it really get the sniper dutch-couragish spunk
My subdued war cries -- and that stampede on the arch rivals swamps and fields
The glint of my sword -- like a bored blink of your eye
My horse nods its head as if telling me don't me me canter or gallop
These are tiny tots -- hide the whip -- don't even think about showing 'em the sheath
Frenzied Shamanic Trance Whirls of Celestial Novas and Solar Flares -- The shooting stars -- look at those meteors race
Is that elegance -- ain't that an imperfect word for such perfect prose -- verbose of saints -- clouds chasing winds -- and rainbows pass by
Drizzle or tornadoes -- the avalnches -- the Himalayan chuckles -- O lightning get real
Hide and seek -- no eclipse -- loony moony -- splash of dews on your face
That's the way -- she trots -- like a rook on a 64 piece board of pawn's fate-deciding dice
gambit -- snake charmer in snake pit
don't let this mongoose give you a fright
He ain't no pet -- he's came looking for a krait bride
My comrade in arms -- grude-ingly tags along
So Miss Siesmograph -- where did you learn that celestial dance --
The scroll -- that reads the death sentence of naives
The shame of lowered flags
The taunts of mock executions
The vieled riducle so you thought you're the king emperoro king
You're Sky Writing
Every gesture -- is a blue cluoudy clusters
Scribble my fate
Be my sunshine
Stomping diligently with grace
The planets of outer space
The very fact that you have such prerogatives
But stil belitting planets -- your whims and fancies
why hobnob -- aint that sin divine
it's your voice -- those naive yet sinister eyes
i don't know what liberetto is -- prison of of my own seashell
Those pearls -- words of Buddha -- now you're the bodhi tree
My last wish is o princess -- grant me a boon
are you real -- thought nobody lives on the moon
take me with you -- i'll pick something for you
a seashell -- a home.
Hey, Excuse me: Madame la baronne.
Look. This isn't funny, ok. And, stop looking up these weird funny French words on Google. Got it, you Indian Expat or er drat Mister Expatriate with Er-This doen't-loo-Right Dubious papers! You aren't Mister Adolfo Kaminsky, ok? Go -- at least -- read his unofficial biography at a stretch -- Mister page boy -- Next time -- you fidgeting with our security and all -- and, snooping -- lurking -- or hovering around me -- on me into my Telly room, whatever -- I'd get real mad -- and might've you prosecuted -- persecuted or maybe executed. I'm not Mata Hari either. Stop reading those spy novels. No. French tea, coffee or cocktail juice. Just go. Ok. Weirdo.
Okay. I apologize . . . . Miss Aztec goddess!
What's that, huh? What cordless phone? Thief. Put it back.
Nope. Miss....so you're a high-school drop-out or something?
Nope. Why? You want me to work for you huh?
I don't know. But, strictly speaking -- basic certs and credentials. You don't have it, right. Dunno. Let me think about it. I usually don't circumvent Ministry of External Affairs you know protocols and all.
History. Read historians with serious and venomous bias and prejudices first.
Look Mister Miniature The Bodhi Tree Saint. Take a walk, ok?
Okay, put on your snickers then -- Ozone-friendly, ok.
This is France. This is not India. So behave yourself. I'm a public figure. And, you're real nobody. Got it?
Don't sulk. Don't boy. Mister Boy scout. Sissy. Want this skirt or is it too skimpy -- for you at least huh?
Blue, Miss?
Damn you.
Cross-dresser huh?
No. Fashion Telly channels surfer.
LOL
The way she L-O-Ls.
God. Not another petty crime. Pompous word -- crazy rhyme.
Franc or dime. Miss or Dame. Let's play Snakers and Ladders. Or Chess -- still your favorite game?
Hey. Mister Caricature.
Yep Miss Future Shock. Alwin Toeffler. Good writer eh?
LOL How did you find me huh? You don't know anybody except that Alexander?
Oh I thought he's from some Greek or Roman Mythology. French eh?
Nope. Honestly, I was looking for a Spanish song. Dunno. All of a sudden. Really impulsively. Then, you materialized in pixels. Low resolution CRT. Eve. Or Virtual Reality. Serendipity. BTW, Miss Tell me something how'd you let Colonel Sanders exploit your indigenous french small-scale industry For instance: French Fries in KFC?
Infrigment of Intelletual property. You don't sue giants and corporates -- you intimidated this Lilliputian Indian-Princely-State-Prince! The Crown Prince of In whose hand is the scroll of Indus Valley Civilization. Was that Alexander that cruel and unjust as well? But you don't know your own history -- How'd you justify moral anarchy -- cultural deviancy -- the massacre of everything French -- The only thing that makes the sun rise again and again on this horizon is the song you sing -- the homage you pay -- for those unsong -- Flag bearers of French revolution.
So you're blabbling -- dunno something -- La Isla Bonito. And, I looked it up Just-the-same-as-always -- and, it's interpretation of the meaning This is where I love to be -- and you looked -- you know a wee bit somewhat pretty and all -- Unapprecialy different or so than an average Iranian Princess or Persian la-di-da -- or Bedouin Evil Eye! And, I wasn't doing anything really serious -- so I replayed your this sound bytes and all -- and this computer got stuck -- so I cursed it real bad -- and, concurrently there's this eternal unsheduled power shutdown. So, I decided to go to shack and have tea and all. That's all. I don't even rememeber...vague sketchy hazy account -- anyways, bye. Okay. Some -- this telly anchor wants to meet him -- real desperate -- she's some queen and all -- so I'll see you around...have fun. Sing something sing-along type song you juke box one time song wonder -- oops I don't have change -- no coins no BMI check -- karaoke poster girl -- Go. Sit in a cosy corner of this room-temperated controlled semi e-Home -- and read Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky -- and how this Alexander turned into a deserter -- okay -- seize this serendipitious moment o goddess of france's destiny -- the real for mutiny -- seige huh -- wanna some custard dessert in the emirati desert corniche -- real yummy -- by the way -- the way you dance -- that's bombshell -- and bayonet charge -- you're my POW -- what powwow -- thumb impression on this yep instrument of surrender -- La Isla Bonito. Indian Tyrant with a French Princess in a dungeon. Who'd rescue you? Knight is here. Dark Horse is here. Shining Armor is here. You are here. I am here. So what are you waiting for -- La Isla . . . . Atrocities of...war crimes -- tribunal..Indian Field Marshal with you in-person to quell quench every rebellion...Nope no rats only Shrews and rodents. Get some sleep. G'Knight.
Your words give me the galloping feats
The razor sharp cutting edge to my words
The flare that ends the beginnings of battles and war
A blank shot -- and there you see is the General's pride buried
That crazy sharpnel -- oh did it really get the sniper dutch-couragish spunk
My subdued war cries -- and that stampede on the arch rivals swamps and fields
The glint of my sword -- like a bored blink of your eye
My horse nods its head as if telling me don't me me canter or gallop
These are tiny tots -- hide the whip -- don't even think about showing 'em the sheath
Frenzied Shamanic Trance Whirls of Celestial Novas and Solar Flares -- The shooting stars -- look at those meteors race
Is that elegance -- ain't that an imperfect word for such perfect prose -- verbose of saints -- clouds chasing winds -- and rainbows pass by
Drizzle or tornadoes -- the avalnches -- the Himalayan chuckles -- O lightning get real
Hide and seek -- no eclipse -- loony moony -- splash of dews on your face
That's the way -- she trots -- like a rook on a 64 piece board of pawn's fate-deciding dice
gambit -- snake charmer in snake pit
don't let this mongoose give you a fright
He ain't no pet -- he's came looking for a krait bride
My comrade in arms -- grude-ingly tags along
So Miss Siesmograph -- where did you learn that celestial dance --
The scroll -- that reads the death sentence of naives
The shame of lowered flags
The taunts of mock executions
The vieled riducle so you thought you're the king emperoro king
You're Sky Writing
Every gesture -- is a blue cluoudy clusters
Scribble my fate
Be my sunshine
Stomping diligently with grace
The planets of outer space
The very fact that you have such prerogatives
But stil belitting planets -- your whims and fancies
why hobnob -- aint that sin divine
it's your voice -- those naive yet sinister eyes
i don't know what liberetto is -- prison of of my own seashell
Those pearls -- words of Buddha -- now you're the bodhi tree
My last wish is o princess -- grant me a boon
are you real -- thought nobody lives on the moon
take me with you -- i'll pick something for you
a seashell -- a home.
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