"in the Marais"
there once was a man from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
who preferred Picasso's over those of Van Gogh
so he didn't give a damn
about Amsterdam
but would rather be in Paris sipping Bordeaux
I need to be someone else or I'm going to explode...
I watch the gentle rain wash the blood off the road...
I'm in desperate need of a scenery change...
I feel alone, isolated, lost, and strange...
Perhaps I need a trip up to Grand Marais...
I check my balance... Yeah, maybe someday...
I have a screaming urge to get out of here...
Either deep underground or the stratosphere...
I don't care that much where I go...
I could sleep in the car or in a chateau...
All I know is that I can't take much more...
For this mundane repetition, I truly deplore...