Paris In The Rain - The Waterboys

He came down to Paris

In his seventeenth year

High on himself

In the numb dead of summer

Looking for something

Realer than real

Richer than riches

Louder than thunder

When he came to Paris in the rain

High on the harvest

Of his beautiful brain

How beautiful his brain

September time

Trees full of leaves

Slowly turning gold

And Arthur free

He came down south

High on the train

Summoned by the poet

Paul Verlaine

He slept in the squares

Sang in the rain

Rapped on doors

And knew no shame

Carrying lice

He changed his name

Though the women were disgusted

And the men damned his name

But the boy was untouchable

He came down to Paris

Singing je m’appelle voyant

(last line translates «I am a seer/ a prophet»)