I went to Morisson's grave at Pere Lachaise cemetery |
| The stony flowers and the matching graffiti were guiding me |
| To the steps inside of me |
And what would you do if I got down on my knees to you |
| What would you do if I lied to your face |
| Could you still hold your dreams |
| Could you live with your silent face |
So what would you do would you walk right through me |
| Would you stand in the way like the others before |
| Get in the way |
| Would you drink to me next Beaujolais day |
Tell me the truth save a prayer for me |
| I would love to leave you but you would cry all night long |
| Eternal romantic victory failed on Beaujolais day |
I heard a wheelchair whisper across a stale silent gymnasium |
| Trailing an ivy league jacket like a matador |
| Through the jitterbug steps of the night before |
Through the chalk white chill and the tear fandango |
| Heading away to the inner wrangle |
| Do we cry for a cell |
| Do we need for a cell |
What would you do would you cry for me |
| Could you set off ... could we go gently |
| Blame it away |
| Do you really want to head for the open door |
Got to crack a bottle while you dream for me |
| Just an absent friend and a misery |
| Laying awake do we stay right there |
| 'Till Beaujolais day |
On Beaujolais day |
| So what would you do would you lie to me |
| Would you sit right back in a victory |
| Would you play for me |
| Could you die for me |
So what would you do would you walk right through me |
| Heading away saying it's just another victory |
| This is Beaujolais day |