Shadows on the wall   Shadows in the depth of his face   Shadows taking everybody's place      Paris was a young man, he wore his hair up in a trick   He quit the house made of roses and rose flavoured spit   Paris with a dagger on his mind and romance in his hand   Tough and hard, in the yard, now nothing but a stranger in a strange land      Socrates in swaying the youth away    Branches thick with heat and syrupy decay    Picks up a book commands him to read   "The part where he kisses him on the roof"   Breaking dawn, woe be gone, hit the dope    And hope they become pure and aloof      Paris glittering in the war forced to compete   They all tried to bully him, buy him, score it for cheap   Hungry boy, he's a wolf, falls down, and bricks a sheep   Says, "you're gold for a moment but gold   Isn't anything you can keep."