it was in the year 1901
when I stopped at Gustav's
from the raging storm
in the street of Paris
i looked up in the morning sky
blocked by the unfinished building
stood long and tall
in the same spot where
we used to lie under the shade
of a sycamore tree
oh im drifting since you walked away
the sound of rain
and the silent pain
im waiting for a clear day
to take my baggage for the next train