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I awaken; the darkened skies my alarm clock I reek of whiskey, scotch and pastis Tumbling out of bed, I reach for a cigarette The dusk harkens as I rise to ply my trade I am embodied inside a one room flat The nightlife and the ladies both coming to life Out the window I see the windmill so famous in red Ladies with offers, men with drinks, the recipe for lust I am the mime of the Moulin Rouge I ready myself with my white painted face Tonight another performance or so it seems I shall juggle my knifes, with my many sad faces Up up up in the air, one, two, three Knifes in a whirlwind of iconic display Around and around like the Moulin Rouge I perform, toss and catch to applause My sad face bows in graceful acknowledgement As they toss their lose coins my way If they see fit to fill my container of misery I make for them my spectacular encore I take a knife, a long black sharp blade Tossed 12 feet in the air, dancing its way back down As it slices the stem of a red rose in my hand I now hand a pretty girl a cut rose The ladies of the evening smile They see I too traded romance for coin How sad it is, this Moulin Rouge of dreams Eleven more roses, and I shall earn my keep Or so the ladies in red believe I, on the other hand, will be changing the last act I am tired of rent and being rented and rented cloth I shall perform the ultimate act finale ce soir Selecting the sharpest set of long fine knifes Lighting them with orange flame, the juggling act begins My audience enthralled, once again Wondering maybe does he ever miss? I never miss, I never shall, this is a certainty The knifes a glow in fire, lighting the nighttime sky, Tossed high, I lie down fast, tossed a rose in the air A Knife as usual cut the rose stem One, two, three, the knifes enter my heart The blood will warm the falling rose As it gently falls upon my silent chest I die with a smile, yes my final act a success The rose so tender upon my breast Breathless all, Gay Paris has died once more I never miss Yet, I miss you
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