You couldn't lie to me in Paris,
No, you wouldn't want to embarrass
Yourself in front of the fathers of the fellas
Who'd raise their eyebrow umbrellas.
Never one for a fuss
Unless it is just the two of us,
We started getting into trouble , you see,
When we started loving in degrees.
The coming and going spirit's in the door hinges
And I'm sitting peeling Suzanne's oranges,
Nothing I ever do is ever good enough for escaping
The love that we've been making.
What I put into question, you put into bed,
Just like you put those wicked thoughts into my head.
When are you leaving town?
The sight of you makes me teary-eyed,
Your body's been honest,
But here again it lies.
So I'm going to that city saved by paper and not soul,
Which judging by those standards could've been a letter that you wrote.
Sur ce, très chère, adieu. Voilà trop causer,
Le temps que l'on perd à lire une missive
N'aura jamais valu la peine qu'on écrive.
(Oh, tes paupières parapluies)