Avignon

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Kevin Wulf

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Oh, Avignon
Papacy is gone
Frescoes on the walls, frescoes on the walls
Oh, Boniface
Holy Celestine
Dante left disgraced

Avignon, comfort me
Well, I spend my time
Drinking goblets of Bacchus red wine
For all those who crawl shall be friends of mine
Their white cassock robes
Cast long shadows in the Palace of the Popes
This old stone bridge no longer crosses the Rhone

Oh, Avignon
Papacy is gone
Frescoes on the walls, frescoes on the walls

Bethesda arcades
Swelled up with rain
Fell in love with you on the promenade
The fountain remains
As the lightning brigades
And threatens to pummel the palisades
Sweared upon open eyes, I'll be there for you in your demise
Let you into my walls, and showed you my gardens and my waterfalls
With my fortifications, avoid humiliations
I'll walk you down the hall and let you surmise, every time

Oh, Avignon
Papacy is gone
Frescoes on the walls, frescoes on the walls

Well, here I sit along the grimy banks of the muddy river
Appropriately named for its viscous consistency
Contaminated by Fenway soil and motor oil
Protected by Cat's and Komatsu's, shaded by the trees

In a city not far from the Maginot line
Stands an olive, suffocated by wisteria vines
So long, poor olive tree, didn't deserve to die
Dripping lilac pedals, nature's way to try and hide

And in the misty air, you told me of your little problems
And how they make you act and play with your fragile brain
And as I stared into your eyes, my mind began to wander
You'll love me as much as I love you one of these days

All the lovers of this world have their own place to hide
Somewhere warm, somewhere cozy, preferably inside
But all the love their crave sure won't stand the test of time
All I wanted were these little friends of mine

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