Oh Paris, oh Paris
with your frivolous nights
waiting drunk at Lamark metro station
for a ride---
you saw the best in me
on those lonely rides home
reading Whitman
drinking wine
as the metallic doors opened
and closed
still lonely
oh Paris, oh Paris
your metros taking me
into deep sleeps
faaar, faaaar into the night
sometimes taking women with me
and sometimes my thoughts
but blessed be those junkies
those who sang
on line 7
blessed be the beggars
blessed be the fearful Parisians
blessed be those fearful idealistic tourists
as i watched them with my still drunk eyes
numb, mumbling
the spells of language
the spells of the lonsome hearth
oh Paris, oh Paris
dont let me out of this metro
cause i'll feel more lonsome outside
up where the humans are
here we lonely rats
can sing
and drink
can kill
and be afraid
in darkness
but still find a piece
of jucy laughter
under the hot summer concrete
we beautiful souls
can rejoice
again
but beware
as the metallic doors opened
the night profoundly dark
the stars like 2000 miles away from home
the wine just enough
for subterranean thoughts
the walk just lonsome enough
to be smiled upon
what were those whom i had loved doing?
how were they smiling?
how were they walking?
i would never know...