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I shiver when I think of you
the awe I feel, the dill I am.
So, from afar I watch,
take in each move
each fleshy groove
the lanolin of lamb,
crank up the dial by just one notch
it spells filou, Monsieur Filou.
What can I do, who can I be
to wrap myself, with pointed knee
around your Majesty's plumage?
I'd pay, and play, I'd pray and say
whatever the montage,
forget the crew, there's only you
who'd offer me a way.
So, let me tell
I wish you well,
but I am always near.
Send thoughts to me
and know I shall
find one discerning ear.
It now is WE,
Monsieur Filou,
a matter not for you.
Herbert Nehrlich
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