text: Nobody left in the airport lounge
  They cleaned the ashtrays
  TVs just wound down
  Ive got to wait till morning
  Ive got to last the night
  Ive only got one book
  To see me through my flight
  But when I get to Paris
  Well paint all our portraits
  In brush-strokes of yellow
  And christen the canvas
  The left bank is crying
  For colour to crown it
  Like the roof of a palace
  Well drink in the amber
  When I get to Paris
  You were the best of Montmartre Street life
  You signed the tablecloth
  Art has its price
  Its so hard to hold on
  To the ghost of your breed
  It takes ambition
  To call the colours you need