My friend David told me
My heart beats like a dream
Down there at the railway station
The lights are turning green
That little black-robed Franciscan priest struts down the Lugarno
Tips his hat at all the North Americans
And dreams the dream of the Argonauts
We know the truth ofthe undeveloped heart
Poplars on the Seine and Sunset Boulevard
The noise that can drive a love asunder
Sometimes your dreams can leave you under
We go climbing down myriad flights of stairs
Blowing off heat and dust
Stretch our romantic souls to cover the wanderlust
At midnight in some strange city black-burned and medieval
We shiver inside our paper thin raincoats
At the silence that knows no evil
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