American In Paris

I was looking for a job in Paris
Looking everywhere
I wanted to have a good time 
wanted to breathe the air

That Hugo breathed and Zola
Rimbaud Baudelaire
I wanted to feel the fleurs du mal
That I read in The Winding Stair

Wanted to sit in the metro
And watch the people pass
Wanted to get lost in Paris
And never come back

(ch) But at times it was lonely
American in Paris
Living in a left bank room
American in Paris

I looked around and looked around
Looked in every window
Looked for a job in a language school
On rue Rambuteau

The owner hailed from Idaho
So very far away
She said she didn't like my look
A boy in jeans she wouldn't pay

I think she was very angry
At the sight of me sitting there
I didn't know the etiquette
But I knew she was unfair

(ch)

So I looked around some more
Winter turned to spring
The lycee girls sat in the park
I passed and heard them sing

Read all the books in the bookstore
Sylvia Beech and Co
Started a dozen novels
But the words they came so slow

Spoke to nobody for weeks
Lived on a franc a day
Lived on bread and water
Started wasting away

(ch)

The suffering of this artist
Was almost too much to bear
Damn it all I finally said
Do I do or do I dare

So I took my old guitar out
Long hidden under the bed
And went and sang my Dylan songs
Underground instead

Of waiting for an angel
To deliver me from despair
Mr tambourine man
On the platform there

And at times it felt lonely
Walking the tracks home at night
An American longs for Missouri
In the city of light...

(ch)