Paris

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