Make drawings on the back of your hand
Undress your conscience from moral pains
Throw a cow from the tenth floor
Travel under the moon that sweeps the wilderness
A Chilean oyster, a kiss in Paris
If I cut my hair and changed my nose
If Vital wrote the Constitution
If I never liked those who never liked me
If I was two and ten* and still be one
If vengeance made the pain I felt go away
If I was curt, righteous, exempt to morals
If I was never reminded of the mess I have made
All this stuff would make me happy
The absurd would make me happy
But nothing would make me happier
Than two Margaritas**