| Forks and Knives (La Fête) |
|---|
| Uptown, the street’s in a calming way |
| And outside is warm as a bed with a maid |
| And I find it’s all our waves and raves |
| That makes the days go on this way |
| I heard the sad sound of words |
| Spoken from a beak of a wise old bird |
| Uptown, the streets are kept afloat |
| And that girl never leaves me alone |
| He means well, saying, |
| I’ve got stories of wine, superb |
| And of course my childhood, forks and knives |
| And a hospital bed, where I turned my life over and over again |
