PLEASE HELP ME, I'M FALLING
But after all it's Paris, guess I'd better write a song
It's so wonderful, so magical, so romantic
Note to self to change that line, it's too pedantic
But it's Paris, I've come so far
I've made it all the way from the bed
To my guitar
You can call me doom and gloom
There ain't no way I'm stepping outside the hotel room
I'm a prisoner, I'm a prisoner
I'm terrified of what's outside beyond that door
I'm a prisoner, I'm a prisoner
A prisoner of 424
Brought a girl to Paris, she didn't like the food
John The Xxiii
Inside a heart
Of freezing boys
Searching for the answer
In a shiney dime
Who beg for sleep
And piece of mind
Why must the aging page
Decide?
Me and John the 23rd have
Tasted these sour words and I
Just can't shake this belief that it's not a
Test of devotion or something you read
From the dawn of time
They taught her why
Not to ask those questions
And never cry
A plate of stars
Could never take the place of the
Boy who swore to catch me
As I run through the rye
I know it's been quite a long time since I
Sang a hym without guilt in my eyes
And I know he truly wouldn't care
'Cause if you really tried, he'd save a place for you there
My weary heart
Is looking, restless
Not for a pardon
But just one promise
All the faith that one can deserve, it's
Enough to wonder why you punish your girls
Sure he's facing you now, and not the wall, but isn't that
Better than facing nothing at all?