There is no reason, and this is Paris.

Here is the .mp3

I have had this song on loop,
          endlessly playing, endlessly caring,
                  for the ones, unlike me,
          that are working in song,
yet remain like me, like us, quite human.

I have shared this longing. And enjoyed it.
The tragic figure, left, abandoned, rejected.

Love, in all its aspects,
is the riddle and the answer.

And when you stay alone, at night, with the music in your ears, and your head,
And when you stay alone, at night and stare at the horizon.
your hand holding that glass,
your imagination seeking the stars, which this city of strangers conceals with its blanket of light.

You remember them well,
the lovers, the friends,
and the love for the moments gone chokes your throat.

You got away now, didn't you babe?

You take the last, long sip of alcohol.
Hold it in your mouth, remembering a time when you considered pleasure to be unholy.

You would kill for a philosophical retort.

Better times are coming.
And if they don't; I will go create them.