Christian Dior. You wasted your life. On aroma and clothes. Fabric and dyes. Christian Dior. You wasted your life. On grandeur and style. And making the poor rich smile. You could have run wild. On the backstreets of Lyon or Marseille. Reckless and legless and stoned. Impregnating women. Or kissing mad street boys from Napoli. Who couldn't even write their own name. Christian Dior. You wasted your life. Sensually stroking the weave of a sleeve. You could have run wild. On the backstreets of Lyon or Marseille. Reckless and legless and stoned. Impregnating women. Or kissing mad street boys from Napoli. Who couldn't even spell the wrong name. Oh Christian Dior. Christian Dior. When you look at me. Failure is all that you see. I discipline my days just like Christian Dior. I could've run. loudly and proudly. Or forcible entry and. Morally bankrupt. And never known violent. And drawn to what scares me. And scared of what bores me. Years alone will never be returned.. Christian Dior. Lionise maverick ah. Design if you can ah. The way to just be a man ah. To just be a man ah. Christian Dior. Christian Dior. Christian Dior . .