We fight at dawn and we fight at dusk, br We relish the struggle. br Often we sulk and we fight in our sleep, br My wife and I don’t even agree on the antagonistic br Nature of our incandescent relationship: br She is of the wandering type and sometimes br Does not even finish her thoughts. br I am a fighter but I am also a loser: my wife wins br Most of the time, most of the loot. br And if I forget what's what, she reminds me of it br That I lost and flee, empty handed. br It does not matter much as I get back on my feet, br She knows I'll be the first to run in our burning house, br Passing by firemen I’ll have called on the lightened br Match - which flame vacillated in my cupped hand - br And we’ll keep on fighting until there’s no br Black and white referee left in our empty street.