Thibault
I walk my lobster
Along the promenade
On a fine sunny spring day
Thibault he loves the Paris
Tulieres is a fine garden
Of naked bodies and wet fountains
Past glories and royalty
Dreamed their dreams, on these garden walks
The melodies behind castle walls
I dance with the goldfish
The Queen of the ball
I am not young, I am not twenty
They tell me to go, I say Alizee?
I hunger for you, I desire you
Your image is the art of my thoughts
I crave you, the pastry and the cream
Under canopy, I hide such desires
I am not afraid of you
Yet I fear the arrow of loves wounds
Let me taste not the blood of such losses
I walk, with Thibault along the Seine
I see you, far away, on the other shore
A vision of le Puy, innocence and beauty
The mist fades, the pot of life boils
Thibault turns red, he knows
The walk of life is about to end
He cries, as his master remains in the dark
I am not twenty anymore
Note: Dedicated to Gérard de Nerval (1808-1855), this is a mix between old and new, poetry and lyrics, with a dash of whimsical in Alizee
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2013
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