The Beauty And The Beast

A tale of two cities, a fifties movie in monochrome
Reading Tarot in The Tuilleries, they saw that France would be her home
The wine was velvet valium, as they dined by candlelight
Talking of their conquests and laughing with delight

They danced with Gallic cowboys at a Gaultier soiree
Then slept with perfect strangers in a film-noir verite

And they felt they were fated, ghosts of honour at the feast -
Thе place names on the tablе read: the beauty and the beast

They were actors in a film that could not ever be released...
It was sweet, but it was bitter, for the beauty and the beast

Bleary-eyed, with secret smiles, they slept right through the day
Then found two could-be lovers in a jungle hideaway

Lost in conversation, bodies touching as they spoke
Whilst music played and bodies swayed in coloured lights and smoke

She said: 'Il est heureux'. He said: 'mais il est triste'
The moment passed, it could not last for the beauty and the beast

They were figures in a painting, a forgotten masterpiece…
With two perfect strangers waving - to the beauty and beast

She said: 'Il est heureux'. He said: 'mais il est triste'
The moment passed, it could not last for the beauty and the beast