the wands of smoke are rising from the walls of the bastille and through the streets of paris runs a sense of the unreal the kings have all departed there servants are nowhere we burned out their mansions in the name of robespierre and still we wait to see the day begin our time is wasting in the wind wondering why wondering why it echoes through the lonely palace of versailles inside the midnight councils the lamps are burning low oh you sit and talk all through the night but there s just no place to go and bonaparte is coming with his army from the south marat your days are numbered and we live hand to mouth while we wait to see the day begin our time is wasting in the wind wondering why wondering why it echoes through the lonely palace of versailles  the ghost of revolution still prowls the paris streets down all the restless centuries it wanders incomplete it speaks inside the cheap red wine of cafe summer nights its red and amber voices call the cars at traffic lights why do you wait to see the day begin your time is wasting in the wind wondering why wondering why it echoes through the lonely palace of versailles wondering why it echoes through the lonely palace of versailles1