Paris

Nobody left in the airport lounge

They cleaned the ashtrays

TV's just wound down

I've got to wait till morning

I've got to last the night

I've only got one book

To see me through my flight

But when I get to Paris

We'll paint all our portraits

In brush-strokes of yellow

And christen the canvas

The left bank is crying

For colour to crown it

Like the roof of a palace

We'll drink in the amber

When I get to Paris

You were the best of Montmartre Street life

You signed the tablecloth

Art has its price

It's so hard to hold on

To the ghost of your breed

It takes ambition

To call the colours you need

I've got to wait till morning

I've got to last the night

I've only got one book

To see me through the flight