we all want to go to Paris!

we all want to go to Paris!
we'll dance around that terrible sound
of black gold gushing
out of the ground
& watch the tiny mad men go rushing
like Peeping Tom
through their telescopes;
the self-promoting dopes
in a tangle of dying pine trees
choking on their crooked knees
in once a peaceful neighborhood
but now we have a tragedy
and it wasn't just me
watching smoke pouring from a stacked chimney
my unbought eyes can clearly see
the ocean tides' chest high
and no one need wonder why
in the middle of the room in a wet dress
and no one has to wonder or guess
shaded lamps and warm black shadows
and so it comes and so it goes!
all the way back to the garden
when we did not draw or paint
even Eskimos feel the heat and faint
so someone has to answer questions:
who will become the Saint?
we're hopelessly muddled in a quagmire
swallowing brimstone and oak wood fire
beauty, it's been said, is in the eyes of the beholder
both the younger and the older
wildflowers wilt and green fields smolder
we're hopelessly muddled in a quagmire
swallowing brimstone and oak wood fire
we all want to go to Paris!
we all want to go to Paris!