Jean Paul Sarte’s Visit to Suburbia

Late at night, as I lay sleeping,
I had a nightmare, or maybe just a dream
A man appeared beside me, he was speaking with an accent
He sounded sort of French to me, well that’s the way it seemed

I asked was he an angel or maybe some old devil
Come to gather me to glory or to steal away my soul
He said I’m no angel or no devil, but I’m just as real as either
And if it will assist you, you can call me Jean Paul

Things may not turn out the way that you intended
It really does not matter what you wanted or you thought
Your destination’s just the place where you have to stop your running
And all that you are left with is all the crap you bought

I said:
I try to be a good man, or at least not get found out
And there’s only a few people I’d want to come to harm
If I understand your premise, I’m just the sum of what I’ve done
And my hands can’t help be dirty, and it fills me with alarm.

The path you walk is paved with good intentions
You’re just looking for an easy row to hoe
You want to find a way of getting through the day
But I’m not saying anything you don’t already know

And with saying that, he disappeared as silent as he came
And he left me shaking, shivering, my brow was slick with sweat
Fearful thinking back on what I’ve done in days gone by
And terrified to think on things that have not happened yet.

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