i left the flat cause it felt like home   ordered wine and sat down to write you a poem   the words came easy, the words came strong   the poem would be good, the poem would be long   wine came but i didn't drink a sip   i just checked i had money for the wine and for the tip   then the poem went on and about an hour past   i lit a straight and had my drink at last   oh you, you who know me quite well   you know that i don't live where i dwell   i don't need a table, i don't need a drink   all i do need is some room to think   given the waterfall, given the few   anything goes, anythings coo   i take the world with its buildings and its trees   and all its swans become my geese   the river a little stream   the glory of old: a dream   but you, you who know me well enough   you know what it's all made of, it's all made of good stuff   i kissed the cutest greek little girl   she gave me some soda and a little blue pearl   i found a roman city in southern italy   and destroyed its ruins, destroyed them totally   i left a pair of black underpants   in the men's room of a bar in paris, france   i slept on the beach above the artic cercle   woke up alive and didn't call it a miracle   but you, you who know me like nobody else does   you know it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter where i was