In a thrift shop in Marseille,
With an old diary in hand,
Couple of stories to say
Before the unanticipated sunset flip
Out of all which,ours in my favorite
The cheap smell of Spanish wine,will hold me here
And I am gonna bring in a folding chair
I must insist,that I don’t know how to begin this
But of course, there are several cameras in the waiting
I let out a sigh,and I hear the lights go off in the building
And I wish you stood real still somewhere back, watching me
I blur the details of my elaborate act,as if was just another magic trick
Tears run down around my face,I am sewn tight to my seat
Memories line up by the choke on my throat,like a razor just about to strike
I loved you before I even ever knew what love was like
Some people leave before it’s over, but most of them stay
Some hide behind their stories, some waste them on whores whilst looking away
Some wait out the remainder,in hopes to be in a thrift shop in Marseille