Lament the night. It’s late, and the ideal
people you know are all in bed asleep;
they pass their nights just like their days – composed.
A coffee cup from the Café de Flore –
You think and think and waste your fate alone.
Darkness around a small light and a fan spins.
Your fate, alone, you think and think and waste.
Awake at night you sit composed around
a small light and a coffee cup in darkness.
It’s late, a fan spins, you know and lament:
Ideal people are all in bed asleep.
