shadows on the wall shadows in the depth of his face shadows taking everybody s place paris was a young man he wore his hair up in a trick he quit the house made of roses and rose flavored spit paris with a dagger on his mind and romance in his hand tough and hard in the yard now nothing but a stranger in a strange land socrates in swaying the youth away branches thick with heat and syrupy decay picks up a book commands him to read the part where he kisses him on the roof breaking dawn woe be gone hit the dope and hope they become pure and aloof paris glittering in the war forced to compete they all tried to bully him buy him score it for cheap hungry boy he s a wolf falls down and bricks a sheep says you re gold for a moment but gold isn t anything you can keep 