Cimetière Du Montparnasse

That unexpected blood clot, no matter how banal
And I could end up dying in this town
Or tumbling blotto head first into the canal
And I could end up dying in this town
That funny smell of burning I neglected for so long
A murderous delegation of the women I have wronged
Or crushed to death by cheap tinned soup I hoarded by the ton
Yeah, I've already lived here far too long

I could die happy on my yacht in San Tropez (So long)
Or freedom fighting in the Palestine campaign (Far too long)
My own wicker effigy up in the Scottish isles (So long)
Expiring in Miami in my art deco pile

Some crude provincial sex game played with oranges and scarves
And I could end up dying in this town
Some local bus stop no-mark wants to show his mates he's hard
And I could end up dying in this town
Or drown in supermarket Saint Emilion
Or lose my mind on mushrooms in my search for Avalon
Or fly headlong down the staircase having tripped on my sarong
Yeah, I've already lived here far too long

I could die happy on my yacht in San Tropez (So long)
Or freedom fighting in the Palestine campaign (Far too long)
My own wicker effigy up in the Scottish isles (So long)
Decaying in Miami in my art deco pile

I could get shanked by car park homophobes who think my face looks wrong
Or some verminous wee tumour growin' where it don't belong
Torn limb from limb by cockerpoos whose owners hate my song
Yeah, I've already lived here far too long

I could die happy on my yacht in San Tropez (So long)
Or freedom fighting in the Palestine campaign (Far too long)
My own wicker effigy up in the Scottish isles (So long)
Croaking in Miami in my art deco pile (Far too long)
Some Brooklyn wise guy popping caps into my ass (So long)
Save me a plot in the Cimetière du Montparnasse
Roll over, Serge, I'm coming home