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