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Postcards from Paris (Wish you were here)

John Denver


Dear friend of mine, the weather's fine.
Today I saw some ruins of the Roman world's decline.
And I climbed all those Spanish steps,
you've heard of them no doubt.
But Rome has lost its glory,
I don't know what it's about.

I wish you were here -
when the shadows fall and all the rushing traffic's still.
I wish you were here -
when the bells are ringing on the seven hills.
I make my way to a small cafe,
I wonder what you did today.
Wish you were here.

Dear one at home, I just flew in from Rome.
Paris is a postcard all decked out in colour chrome.
And so I climbed the Eiffel Tower
and prayed at Notre Dame.
But I just can't find the romance,
and I wonder why I came.

I wish you were here -
on the Champs Elysé–‘s lovers walking hand in hand.
I wish you were here -
they take one look at me and seem to understand.
This city of light is a lovely site,
the first bright star I see tonight.
Wish you were here.

Now I write this from the plane,
drinking cheap champagne,
and wondering why two people got so far apart.

I wish you were here -
here in London where the rain is pouring down
I wish you were here -
on this airplane headed back to New York Town.
I'll never leave you alone again,
I'm coming home but until then,
wish you were here, I wish you were here.

Wish you were here.

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