Paris Is A Hoax

Call me a pragmatist

But what is Paris but a feeling

Built on inadequacy and imaginations

With streets you’re expected to Rue

Pickpockets smoother than the chocolat

Cafes full of fanciful bread and wine

A modern fantasy isn’t it

Just like the art that sits on walls

For you to be vexed at

A mere 50 euros, madame

The accents undeniably patronizing

Or just the flavour of le Francais


Home to the finest of fashions

A mecca for the connoisseurs of sequins

And fringes on bags and shoes and hair

A little walk down Champs Elysees

Disapproving clicks from the petit cheries

Radiating their way to champagne and caviar

The incroyable lines outside the Eiffel

The view of magnifique gardens

You will never be able to navigate to

Alas, these imbecile tourists

Buying up souvenirs (if the exchange rate is favourable)


I guess the food’s chic

Baguettes and cheese (like in Subway)

The Seine lethargic, ferries enthusiastic

A fine opportunity to say Bon Voyage

En route your pedestrian expeditions

You take to afford eau de cologne for your mother

Which probably smells very bourgeois,

French for a joke.


(I really didn’t spend too much time in the city but it was very nice and expensive and overwhelming and this is just commentary on how everything we perceive is built up in our heads.)


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