My Notre Dame is burning
Let the bells ring
Of ancient fools.

My dad looks me in the eyes
And asks me how long he has to live
Is it terminal?

The Jim Beam speaks back to me
Of fathers come and go
And I lie.

I lie with my lips glued to my teeth
And nostrils flared
And with mimicked repose.

My spire collapses
And I book flights to Paris
So I don’t have to answer questions.

How can I take care of you
When Notre Dame is burning?

Daddy, someone has to put it out and I’m sorry.