The wands of smoke are rising
From the walls of the Bastille
And through the streets of Paris
Runs a sense of the unreal
The Kings have all departed
Their servants are nowhere
We burned out all their mansions
In the name of Robespierre
And still we wait
To see the day begin
Our time is wasting in the wind
Wondering why
Wondering why, it echoes
Through the lonely palace of Versailles
Inside the midnight councils
The lamps are burning low
On you sit and talk all through the night
wondering
wands
walls
voices
restless
speaks
mansions
councils
lights
incomplete
ghost
amber
burned
echoes
centuries
paris
kings
nights
through
while
their
bonaparte
place
lonely
inside
begin
departed
burning
lamps
coming
wonders
bastille
night
traffic
mouth
nowhere
numbered
midnight
palace
cheap
prowls
revolution
rising
sense
servants
smoke
wasting
streets
south
summer
still
unreal
versailles
Click on any word to see the translation
Click on this icon to translate the entire sentence