On the train back to Paris it was raining in the carriage I was talking to the window it was ignoring me the aging Sergeant Major drinking whisky from brown paper terrorized the tourists who thought they were on TV this drunken son of empire threw up in the corner accosted everyone in sight all through the noisy night And they were all running away from home I'd done a runner from the asylum hitched a ride with the matron began selling cardboard cutouts of my own disease I'd no respect for the institution I wasn't seeking absolution there was talk of a revolution but I missed the wheels going round And as the rich get richer the ditches that you're digging are no deeper than the ditch you get eventually... And we were all running away from home They was a crowd at the station like a carnival of thieves the cripples and the gypsies were begging on their knees ignored and abandoned I could not find relief I couldn't listen to their speeches I wasn't standing on my own two feet... I lost the plot in the graveyard drank some wine on the boulevard began talking in an american accent to see if they could understand me three college girls on vacation seemed to adore the masturbation of the sycophantic sophomore I was pretending to be meanwhile back in the asylum with Joesephine and Napoleon I was just about to speak when she made it quite clear That we were all running away from home......