Where we've been hush now, not a sound can leave where we have found to make our bed reach out and take my hand, draw circles in the sand in which to pray i don't think god can see us now, just lying, wearing only our modesty as sure as the day will end, i'll hold you in my arms, defend...

Montmartre on a mountain of martyrs with a view of the city, i look to find the truth in your lies brushed over a canvas to the sound of the waking, a scene of the poor and the wise the shadows of morning in the valley of fables, and the beauty of youth and of time the smoke from the factory...