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Paris Hilton

When Paris has to pee, Paris has to pee!

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I Gotta Pee

I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
Call 911!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
Call 911!
I gotta pee!
I gotta pee!
I gotta poo!

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Une Nuit A Paris

Part one: one night in paris
Bonjour monsieur
Paris really welcomes you
Its the best room in the house
Its forty francs a night, alright.
Its crazy, it isnt worth a centime
Ill take it!
Merci monsieur
Rouged lips in the gaslight
A great view of the hall
Thats the way the croissant crumbles after all
Paris is only one step away
Les girls are out on bail
Tres bien theres love for sale
Oh my cheri, wish you were mine
And Ill show you a wonderful time
For the price of a cheap champagne
Ill show it you once again
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face
One girl in paris
Is like loving every woman
One night in paris
One night in paris
One night in paris
May be your last!!!
Part two: the same night in paris
Is he gonna buy?
You wanna little culture?
Is he gonna pay?
Maybe monsieur is into photographs, non?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
I got a watch wiz a beautiful swiss movement
Is he gonna buy?
Forget the watch, Ill show you a good time!'
Is he gonna pay?
Le connoisseur, want something different?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
Oh you know you aint no casanova
You cant even do the bossa nova
Or the tango or the samba!
Though you are so very charming
No you aint no casanova
Is he gonna buy?
Is he gonna pay?
Or is he gonna fall in love

[...] Read more

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Nazim Hikmet

Gioconda And Si-Ya-U

to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
whose head was cut off in Shanghai

A CLAIM

Renowned Leonardo's
world-famous
"La Gioconda"
has disappeared.
And in the space
vacated by the fugitive
a copy has been placed.

The poet inscribing
the present treatise
knows more than a little
about the fate
of the real Gioconda.
She fell in love
with a seductive
graceful youth:
a honey-tongued
almond-eyed Chinese
named SI-YA-U.
Gioconda ran off
after her lover;
Gioconda was burned
in a Chinese city.

I, Nazim Hikmet,
authority
on this matter,
thumbing my nose at friend and foe
five times a day,
undaunted,
claim
I can prove it;
if I can't,
I'll be ruined and banished
forever from the realm of poesy.

1928


Part One
Excerpts from Gioconda's Diary

15 March 1924: Paris, Louvre Museum

At last I am bored with the Louvre Museum.

[...] Read more

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Guillaume Apollinaire

Vendémiaire

Hommes de l'avenir souvenez-vous de moi
Je vivais à l'époque où finissaient les rois
Tour à tour ils mouraient silencieux et tristes
Et trois fois courageux devenaient trismégistes

Que Paris était beau à la fin de septembre
Chaque nuit devenait une vigne où les pampres
Répandaient leur clarté sur la ville et là-haut
Astres mûrs becquetés par les ivres oiseaux
De ma gloire attendaient la vendange de l'aube

Un soir passant le long des quais déserts et sombres
En rentrant à Auteuil j'entendis une voix
Qui chantait gravement se taisant quelquefois
Pour que parvînt aussi sur les bords de la Seine
La plainte d'autres voix limpides et lointaines

Et j'écoutai longtemps tous ces chants et ces cris
Qu'éveillait dans la nuit la chanson de Paris

J'ai soif villes de France et d'Europe et du monde
Venez toutes couler dans ma gorge profonde

Je vis alors que déjà ivre dans la vigne
Paris Vendangeait le raisin le plus doux de la terre
Ces grains miraculeux qui aux treilles chantèrent

Et Rennes répondit avec Quimper et Vannes
Nous voici ô Paris Nos maisons nos habitants
Ces grappes de nos sens qu'enfanta le soleil
Se sacrifient pour te désaltérer trop avide merveille
Nous t'apportons tous les cerveaux les cimetières les murailles
Ces berceaux pleins de cris que tu n'entendras pas
Et d'amont en aval nos pensées ô rivières
Les oreilles des écoles et nos mains rapprochées
Aux doigts allongés nos mains les clochers

Et nous t'apportons aussi cette souple raison
Que le mystère clôt comme une porte la maison
Ce mystère courtois de la galanterie
Ce mystère fatal fatal d'une autre vie
Double raison qui est au-delà de la beauté
Et que la Grèce n'a pas connue ni l'Orient
Double raison de la Bretagne où lame à lame
L'océan châtre peu à peu l'ancien continent

Et les villes du Nord répondirent gaiement

Ô Paris nous voici boissons vivantes
Les viriles cités où dégoisent et chantent

[...] Read more

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Oenone

There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars
The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up and takes the morning: but in front
The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel,
The crown of Troas. Hither came at noon
Mournful Œnone, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck
Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,
Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade
Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.

"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill:
The grasshopper is silent in the grass:
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone,
Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead.
The purple flower droops: the golden bee
Is lily-cradled: I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
And I am all aweary of my life.

"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks,
I am the daughter of a River-God,
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed,
A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be
That, while I speak of it, a little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.

"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
I waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,

[...] Read more

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Œnone

. There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars
The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus
Stands up and takes the morning: but in front
The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel,
The crown of Troas. Hither came at noon
Mournful Œnone, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck
Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,
Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade
Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.

'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill:
The grasshopper is silent in the grass:
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone,
Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead.
The purple flower droops: the golden bee
Is lily-cradled: I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
And I am all aweary of my life.

'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks,
I am the daughter of a River-God,
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed,
A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be
That, while I speak of it, a little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.

'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
I waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,

[...] Read more

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In Paris With You

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.

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Paris, Please Accept Me, As A Human Refugee

paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
the patience, eating the happiness
the pain, eating the patience
and the pain, eating the pain
I AM SICK, paris
treat me, sister
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
exile, on my papers
restrained, ..
in my lines
so free me, paris
treat me, paris
I BELONG TO YOU, ..
sister
my home, the colours of MONET
my room, is a water flower
my air..
is the scent of FRANCE
and my refuge..
is a place by RENOIR shrine
so take me paris..
as your..
renoirian..
REFUGEE.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

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Pee Wees Playhouse Theme

Come on in, and pull yourself up a chair (like chairry !)
Let the fun begin, its time to let down your hair !
Pee-wees so excited,
cause all his friends have been invited (thats you !)
To go wacky, at pee-wees playhouse!
Theres a crazy rhythm, comin from puppetland (what that ? )
Dirty dog, cool cat, and chicky baby are the puppet band (yeah !)
Hes got a couple of talkin fish,
And a genie wholl grant a wish -
Golly, its cuckoo at pee-wees playhouse !
Globeys spinnin, mr. windows grinnin,
cause pterris flyin by (hello !)
The flowers are singin, the picture phone is ringin,
And the dinosaur family goes, hi!
Mr. kites soarin, conkys still a snorin,
Theres the flashing magic screen.
The cowntess is so classy, randys kinda sassy -
A nuttier establishment youve never seen !
Spend the day with pee-wee and youll see what we mean ! (come on !)
Get outta bed, therell be no more nappin! (wake up!)
cause youve landed in a place where anything can happen -
Now weve given you fair warnin !
Its gonna be that kind of mornin -
For bein wacky !
For getting nutty !
Golly, its cuckoo !
At pee-wees playhouse !

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Something so ordinary can be poetic

Something like
NO PARKING
Is poetic to me
You are a soul
Lost to this
Town of indifference
And you have
Been roaming
Around in your
Old car of a
Soul and you
Want to rest
And think
And what they
Say is

NO PARKING

That is actually
Poetic

Or shall we say

THIS WAY TO THE RESTROOM

Oh that is really
Poetic signifying
Relief that in this country
There still exists A WAY TO

A way a path a footpath
for someone lost
someone wanting to empty
Himself like a heavy cloud
Wanting to empty
Its accumulating heaviness
Like your urinary bladder
Looking for a restroom and
Oh heavens
This is the way to the rest room
This is the way to the heavens
Where I can just
Have the freedom of pursuing my happiness
Of a simple poetic pee
So this way to the rest room
Is a feeling of relief

It is a feeling of relief and poetry is just like that
You look for a way to unburden yourself
A way to this and that of relieving your

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I Love Paris

Every time I look down on this timeless town,
Whether blue or gray be her skies,
Whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize that...
I love paris in the spring time
I love paris in the fall
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles
I
Love paris in the winter when it drizzles
I love paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love
Paris, why oh why do I love paris
Because my love is here

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I Love Paris

Nat king cole
(cole porter)
(can-can)
Every time I look down on this timeless town
Whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize:
I love paris in the springtime.
I love paris in the fall.
I love paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles.
I love paris every moment,
Every moment of the year.
I love paris, why, oh why do I love paris?
Because my love is near.

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Charles Baudelaire

Le Cygne (The Swan)

À Victor Hugo

I

Andromaque, je pense à vous! Ce petit fleuve,
Pauvre et triste miroir où jadis resplendit
L'immense majesté de vos douleurs de veuve,
Ce Simoïs menteur qui par vos pleurs grandit,

A fécondé soudain ma mémoire fertile,
Comme je traversais le nouveau Carrousel.
Le vieux Paris n'est plus (la forme d'une ville
Change plus vite, hélas! que le coeur d'un mortel);

Je ne vois qu'en esprit tout ce camp de baraques,
Ces tas de chapiteaux ébauchés et de fûts,
Les herbes, les gros blocs verdis par l'eau des flaques,
Et, brillant aux carreaux, le bric-à-brac confus.

Là s'étalait jadis une ménagerie;
Là je vis, un matin, à l'heure où sous les cieux
Froids et clairs le Travail s'éveille, où la voirie
Pousse un sombre ouragan dans l'air silencieux,

Un cygne qui s'était évadé de sa cage,
Et, de ses pieds palmés frottant le pavé sec,
Sur le sol raboteux traînait son blanc plumage.
Près d'un ruisseau sans eau la bête ouvrant le bec

Baignait nerveusement ses ailes dans la poudre,
Et disait, le coeur plein de son beau lac natal:
«Eau, quand donc pleuvras-tu? quand tonneras-tu, foudre?»
Je vois ce malheureux, mythe étrange et fatal,

Vers le ciel quelquefois, comme l'homme d'Ovide,
Vers le ciel ironique et cruellement bleu,
Sur son cou convulsif tendant sa tête avide
Comme s'il adressait des reproches à Dieu!


II

Paris change! mais rien dans ma mélancolie
N'a bougé! palais neufs, échafaudages, blocs,
Vieux faubourgs, tout pour moi devient allégorie
Et mes chers souvenirs sont plus lourds que des rocs.

Aussi devant ce Louvre une image m'opprime:
Je pense à mon grand cygne, avec ses gestes fous,
Comme les exilés, ridicule et sublime

[...] Read more

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An Appeal To Paris

BEAUTIFUL Paris! morning star of nations!
The Lucifer of cities, lifting high
The beacon blaze of young democracy!
Medina and Gomorrha both in one
Medina of a high and holy creed
To be developed in a coming time!
Gomorrha, rampant with all vice and guilt
Luxurious, godless, grovelling, soaring Paris,
Laden with intellect, and yet not wise
Metropolis of satire and lampoon,
Of wit, of elegance, of mirth, of song,
And fearful tragedies done day by day,
Which put our hair on end in the open streets
The busy hive of awful memories,
The potent arbiter of popular will,
The great electric centre whence the shocks
Of pulsing freedom vibrate through tbe world-
Beautiful Paris! sacred to our hearts,
With all thy folly, all thy wickedness-
If but for Bailly, Vergniaud, Gensonne,
And noblest Roland, she of Roman soul,
And the great patriots and friends of man
Who went to death for holy liberty-
Lift up thy voice, O Paris! once again,
And speak the thought that labours in thy breast;
Shake off thy gauds and tinsels-be thyself;
Cease thy lewd jests, and heartless revelries,
Thy adoration of all worthless things,
Thy scorn, thy sarcasm, and thy unbelief;
And in the conflict and the march of men
Do justice to thy nature, and complete
The glorious work, so gloriously begun
By the great souls of pregnant eighty-nine.
Come forth, oh, Paris! freed from vice and stain,
Like a young warrior dallying too long
With loving women, wasting precious hours
In base delights and enervating sloth;
Who, when he shakes them off, puts back his hair
From his broad brow, and places on his head
The plumed helmet-throws his velvets off.
And swathes his vigorous limbs in glancing steel.
To lead true hearts to struggle for mankind.
Or if no more, Soldier of Liberty!
Thou 'lt lead the nations-stand upon the hill,
And, like a prophet, preach a holy creed
Of freedom, progress, peace, and happiness;
And all the world shall listen to thy voice,
And Tyranny, hyaena big with young,
Dreading the sound, shall farrow in affright.
And drop, still-born, her sanguinary cubs,

[...] Read more

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Cafe Prague.

Cream coloured coffee
And hot buttered toast
August sunshine
A packet of cigarettes
Talks on love and life
Friends and strangers all together

Days of summer
Seated on outside chairs
Tears and laughter
Mixed in the air
Of the perfect day just us and them

Cafe pavements
The world at view
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Used coffee cups
And ashtrays too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague

Trendy young girls
And the wannabe author
Auster, Adams and Mr. Salinger
Days of dreaming
The perfect film
In view for all to see

Hello, hello
So good to see you
Was it twelve?
Or maybe it was two
I’ll sit and wait
And think of you

Cafe pavements
For me and you
Pairs, Rome and cafe Prague
Dirty spoons and knives
And glasses too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Teacups and Earl grey
And ice cream sundaes
Black and white life
In full technicolour
Light my cigarette
And I’ll listen all day

Sunshine days
Storm clouds - away
The table over there

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I Have To Pee!

One day I was sitting in my chair
Playing with my hair
When an urge was inflicted upon me.
What's that yellow stuff?
Oh, it's pee!
I have to pee
Oh, I have to pee!
Let this pee run in the toilet,
And not on me.
=D

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Could Should Do?

so much we could
do should do
but do not do

as individuals
as peoples
as nations

we could harness
free solar energy
energy of solar radiation

sunlight burns
to light our night
in shades of day

we could harness
energy of wind in
great profusion

ride the wind
in electric cars
at speed storm adorned

we could harness
spirit of water
as river tides

as sea tides coastal
as great ocean current swell
as cold water fusion

realized already no illusion
dams we build in profusion
cold fusion harnessed in secret seclusion

we could harness
earth energy wasted as bio gases
farm animals city herds waste supplies

excrement dried fertilizes crops
new growth new life unwasted slops
pee provides ammonia nitrogen infuses soils

free free free with every pee pee pee
slaves to energy waste we need not be
bio friendly freely given we need to see see see

so much we should do
but we do not do

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Libby

(carly simon)
If all our flights are grounded
Libby, well meet in paris
Dance along the boulevards
And have no one to embarrass,
Puttin on the ritz in style
With an arab and an heiress,
Libby well fly away - hey
Leave behind our blues
Trade them all in
For a paris breeze.
Libby well fly
See how dark the circles grow
In a town that has no light
So many eyes just staring out
Into the bloodshot night
And libby, I hate you to cry, and i
Want to share it all with you,
And if it brings us to our knees
Well trade it all in for a paris breeze.
Libby well fly.
They say it dont come easy
They say that love is blind
And if youre afraid to be close
Then love is hard to find
And if you spend too much time winning love
Theres no time to be kind
And libby, Im guilty of your crimes,
Im just another passenger.
Travelling on these crazy high seas
Very likely be the same
In a paris breeze,
Libby well fly
If all our flights are grounded,
Libby, well go to paris
And wish we were back home again
Or sailing on the ocean
Just a window and a drink
To set our dreams in motion
But libby, well fly anyway, hey
And leave behind our blues
Half sung melodies
Trade them all in for a paris breeze,
Libby well fly.

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A Country Girl In Paris

This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the gift you are and the john denver collection - annies song
Ms.
A country girl in paris, moonlight on the seine
Memories of tennessee, nashville in the rain
Its such a contradiction, a heart thats filled with pain
A country girl in paris, dreamin nashville in the rain
She walks along the boulevard, champs alysee
Thinks about a country boy three thousand miles away
Pride is such a hard thing, its such a price to pay
To be all alone in paris with true love so far away
Up upon mont martre when she stops to rest awhile
All the artists look at her and they long to paint her smile
For even in her sorrow theres something in her eyes
That makes the young men jealous, makes the old men sigh
They say the loss of innocence is always linked to pain
For once the heart is opened nothing ever is the same
And so the evening lends itself to lovers and romance
The way to heal a broken heart is to give true love
One more chance
A country girl in paris, moonlight on the seine
Memories of tennessee, nashville in the rain
Its such a contradiction, a heart thats filled with pain
A country girl in paris, dreamin nashville in the rain
A country girl in paris, longing for nashville in the rain
Words and music by john denver

song performed by John DenverReport problemRelated quotes
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