Blinded by beauty I was,
and now, streets of Paris sting,
remind of life's cruelty alas,
turn passionless, in a time of spring,
so I dance, with jazzy steps,
from Arc de Triomphe to Champs-Elysees,
forever young, forever Immortal,
gods favourites dance around,
all the way to Place de la Concorde, here,
they all wish to be on line,
for quillotine that turns back time,
send them back for one more rhyme,
Kings, Lovers, Poets now cry,
their melancholy is stolen, oh why, o'why!!