You park the rig on Rue de Verneuil
The engine coughs and settles into sleep
Six stories up the air is thin and cool
You count the chimneys standing watch and deep
Zinc and slate stretch out beneath your boots
A hymn you hummed in rehearsal rooms ago
No congregation here just pigeon flutes
And breath that clouds the gutter's silver glow
The Seine reflects a fractured afternoon
Light gilds the rooftops in a honeyed tune
Your logbook rests on cold wrought iron rail
You swapped the cab for café au lait
Zinc and slate stretch out beneath your boots
A hymn you hummed in rehearsal rooms ago
No congregation here just pigeon flutes
And breath that clouds the gutter's silver glow
You finger chords on air where soprano sat
The alto line you carried through the nave
Now only gutter sparrows answer that
Your voice a ghost the terrace cannot save
Zinc and slate stretch out beneath your boots
A hymn you hummed in rehearsal rooms ago
No congregation here just pigeon flutes
And breath that clouds the gutter's silver glow
The dispatcher calls from Lille at half past nine
The tower flashes gold along the Seine
You drain the cup leave euros on the stone
The city hums a hymn you've always known
Zinc and slate stretch out beneath your boots
A hymn you hummed in rehearsal rooms ago
No congregation here just pigeon flutes
And breath that clouds the gutter's silver glow
Zinc and slate the only keys you need
Paris keeps the melody you bleed
Wheels turn north the terrace fades behind
