Montreal

you’ll never be my Montreal

London, maybe, in the fall

Agra with its Taj Mahal

Kathmandu in old Nepal

 

New York, Paris, and Madrid

The far-off citites where we hid

And all the ancient lives we lived

in Castillian dances with el Cid

 

Rome is burning to the ground

as in Atlantis our tears drown

and Rio bursts to life with sound-

the sound of hope and crashing down.

 

Athens wrote in ancient rhymes,

Oslo in the summertime,

Los Angeles less well-refined

Berlin with its wretched crimes…

 

Oh, please don’t be my Montreal

Please say you’re London in the fall

all the cities, burn them all,

if you just won’t be my Montreal.

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