Through a Prism

 

Baby, the summer season’s ending,

but hasn’t it been good to us all?

Bountiful, you might even say.

 

Darling, for some strange reason,

anything I care to rhyme is taken as fiction.

 

Life seen through a prism would be no more than the sum of its parts.

 

You can look the other way.

You can lurch from day to day.

But what are you gonna do?

What are you gonna do?

 

I’ve looked every single way.

I have limped from day to day.

But I don’t want to be like you.

 

No thanks, I cannot move to Poland

though I’m sure the people are all very kind.

 

Nobody minds

what you get up to.

 

I know I couldn’t stand

not to enjoy a full command

of the language of the country I live in.

 

This one’s like a prison, but my friends are all at hand.

 

You can look the other way.

You can lurch from day to day.

But what are you gonna do?

What are you gonna do?

 

Let the winter sunlight wane

somewhere very far away.

I just want to be with you.

 

I’ve been to Paris.

I’ve eaten strawberries.

I’ve been to Barcelona.

 

Baby, the summer will be over before you know it.