Latin Quarter - Pantomime of Wealth


He sent his little girl away with fifty cents
When fifty was four times her age
He had head full of headlines and higher rents
And all the world’s a stage.
But then his ardour turned to harder
Turned to turnip greens
Stacked up on a supermarket shelf
He had to settle down to living out in Santa Clara
And a bit part in life itself

You’re too close lady
You come too close
To some people’s comfort
You come too
Too close lady

She saw the train pull out at half past eight
And it ate up all the past as it went
And a young man sweeping up the marshalling yard
Helped her when the fifty was spent
But then a bedding turned to wedding
Turned to other women
And he didn’t even do it with stealth
So she left him to his exits and entrances
And his bit part in life itself

She gave the flatlands up for a northern town
And working in a lady’s room
Where the famous play a game of courting her
And send her the occasional bloom
But flowers wilt in hours
Limp in lonely nights
In apartments that can pull apart your health
But she’s put more into living in a hundred days
Than a bit part in life itself.

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