Uncle Phil - To Paris She Fled

She was seventeen years and three-quarters
When she snuck out of her family's home
Like many almost-eighteen daughters
She harboured a burning urge to roam

School had been seven years of boredom
She was taught to conform by a fool
Now bound for a new kind of freedom
Creating a new set of rules

To Paris she fled with her backpack
The left bank was calling her name
She tried, when she arrived, to make contact
With a man who knew how to play the game

She smoked Gul-wahs with a black man
Six foot two, white shirt, pointed shoes
They danced, locked together in slow time
While a New Orleans man played the blues

The smoke curled and rose to the ceiling
The bricks gleamed in the candle-flame light
The bluesman sang a number deep with feeling
She prayed that it would be like this every night

Waiting on tables in the daytime
Waiting in alleys at night
With one foot in good and one foot in bad
Won't someone lead her into the light

Written by:
Phil Gray

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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