That’s what I want to hear.
I want you to make me cry.
I want to remember the places that we left,
Lost to the mists of time.
I know that you’ll go soon.
You’ll find out so take me with you always.
On buses that move through the night
We sleep on and on.
We got off at Memphis, black-top heat will make us thirsty.
We’ll never get sick anymore.
by AU REVOIR SIMONE