Keeps the labyrinth dark and open wide. Chatting-up the Rue de St. Laurent, still I'm not a trusted confidante. Now he's loaded-up onto the bus, won't turn around, won't wave and make a fuss. Watch the bus as it pulls away, headed north to some lonely atelier. Well, the sun has set and the weather's right.
Radar shows a perfect night.
Leathers donned and a little bit of dough. All gassed up and ready to go. Got plenty of stress I need to erase. Just enough time to get things straight. Tiny hamlet over the rise.