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Paris
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Patrick Wolf
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1
It was seven in the morning when the spark
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Began to give. the bath was spilling over, my
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Self pity spilling with it, so i, i fled the country
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To start it all again and found myself in paris in
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The cemetery rain.
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Dear anne came to me and took me by the arm
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Showed me old disasters embedded in the palm
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Warned me of a lady with the sun behind her head.
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With a a granite neck, a singer who can never sing
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Again. but you, my love:
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You must come, come to joy, turn your head to the sun
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Its down to you, you can shine, you can shake all the
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Sorrow from your palm.. it's down to you if you dare
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To come to joy.
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What was it i ran from, what burnt away inside?
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Four hundred schoolboys and a lawyer at my side
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Always running with these legs going nowhere
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A ghost in the system, and angel on the stairs...
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But oh! this time....
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I shall turn, turn my head to the sun..
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They are marching out of me.. one by one
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Walking free. oh! they're going out of....
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Oh! i can feel it moving, this time i'm really moving.
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Are you ready to come, come to joy well it's really down to
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You if you dare to enjoy... it's down to you... hold the key
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In your hands.. it's all in the palm of your hands
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