He went to Paris Looking for answers To questions that bothered him so He was impressive, Young and aggressive, Saving the world on his own Warm summer breezes And french wines and cheeses Put his ambitions at bay Summers and winters Scattered like splinters And four or five years slipped away He went to England Played the piano And married an actress named Kim They had a fine life She was a good wife And bore him a young son named Jim And all of the answers To all of the questions Locked in his attic one day He liked the quiet Clean country living And twenty more years slipped away Well, the war took his baby Bombs killed his lady And left him with only one eye His body was battered His whole world was shattered And all he could do was just cry While the tears were a' fallin' He was recallin' The answers he never found So he hopped on a freighter Skidded the ocean And left England without a sound Now he lives in the islands Fishes the pylons And drinks his green label each day He's writing his memoirs And losing his hearing But he don't care what most people say "Through eighty six years Of perpetual motion, " If he likes you, he'll smile and he'll say, "Some of it's magic, And some of it's tragic, But I had a good life all the way" He went to Paris Looking for answers To questions that bothered him so Source: Musixmatch Songwriters: J. Buffett He Went to Paris lyrics © American Broadcasting Music, Inc.
C.: (Ring) Hey, d.c. How was your birthday once you got home from work? d.: It was fine. I had to return a lot of phone calls from family, friends and well-wishers. I felt I must return each personally, because that is what is expected from the King of Rock 'N' Roll, baby. I must take care of business!
C.: (Oh, no! d.c's dissociative disorder is kicking in! He must not have slept much, if at all last night. When he is very tired, d.c. becomes his alter ego, Elvis Pressley! I must orient him to person, place, time and situation if I want this discussion to go well.) d.c., how much sleep did you get last night? You do realize that you are d.c. scot, author, nurse, and songwriter, don't you?
d.: Who's this person to whom you are referring, Freddie? You and I must get back to our island off the coast of the Carolinas and write some more music after I return from France! The fishing guides are expecting something in return for the supplies they bring us. We will give them the lyrics to our songs in return for the supplies. Then, they can claim the lyrics as their own, and everyone will leave us alone!
C. (Now, d.c. thinks I'M Freddie Mercury. I suppose that I should humor him to keep from upsetting him.) Okay, King, but why are you going to France? d.: To watch the end of the Tour de France. Those are my people. A little known fact is that I was a triathlete after I faked my death and gave up my designation as the king of rock 'n' roll. Cycling is the most important part of a triathlon. I have a lot in common with the people involved in this race! C.: E., you (supposedly) died in the seventies. Triathlons were not even thought of until the nineteen-eighties. How could you have participated in triathlons? d.: No, Freddie, that was the rumor, just like the rumor that you died in the early nineteen nineties. We both know that we are standing here talking to each other! We both just wanted peace, so each of us faked our own deaths. I participated in triathlons under another identity after I "came back from the dead." C.: What identity was that? d.: Dave Scott. Where do you think I got the idea to call myself d.c. scot? C.: (I do not know what to do now. d.c not only thinks he is Evis Pressley, he also thinks that he is "The Man," Dave Scott, six-time winner of the World Championship Hawaiian Ironman Distance Triathlon! Idk. Maybe I should just end this discussion and let him sleep. He should feel better by tomorrow after he gets some sleep.) That's all the time we have for today, folks. Join us tomorrow, when we will both (hopefully) be ourselves again. d.: Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building! .
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