I wrote a song. See if you like it. -I think it’s nice.
-Surely. My love I don’t love you anymore I haven’t loved you
in a while and you don’t realize it my love I hate you, you fucking loser I feel like
killing you very slowly but I won’t my love I threw up yesterday
when I saw you I can’t stand your hair
and that stupid green sweater your feet stink Gregório, my love I loathe you
with all my being and when you go to work
to record your dumb videos I fuck the plumber and sometimes his brother because he’s hotter but there’s nothing worse
than living with you don’t look to the sides,
you’re the only one here and when you act stupid,
like when you saw me with that guy,
and I told you it was my twin you know I have no sister you’re so stupid
you still believe in Santa Claus if you ask me
if this song is for you I’ll say, “of course not”,
but it obviously is Honey, is that song for me? No, Gregório.
What do you mean? No, no… No! No. -Great!
-Yeah. I thought it was for me
when you said, “Gregório.” -Nah.
-It could have been for me. No. No. -You just used my name.
-Exactly. -And my feet…
-It was just for inspiration, but… And the sweater… -No.