Paris Paloma Notre Dame
I'm in the rafters looking down
It's cold up here
Between walls of stone
I made my home
And the air hangs heavy with the incense
Feathers fall from pigeons
Cooing in the tower
I rarely go down there
The view's just so beautiful from here
And i can see everybody at their worst points
At their worst points
I'm not a sadist
I enjoy just being able to be witness
Of the loneliness and fear
I abhor in case there isn't one
In case there isn't one
I'm not a higher power
I just live in the ceiling
Cause i'm lonely on the fringes
And it gives my life some meaning in the exile
In my exile
The grey light filters through slabs
And the flagstones glow
Bright from the stained glass
A hundred feet below
As i tiptoe creaking over prayers
Pleading with their maker
Crying with the choir
I'm not immune to the sincerity
Below me, makes me feel
It makes me holy
But the tears i understand
That i do not below
No i do not belong
Watching the figures all the saints
But mostly sinners come and go
Some are desperate
But the others have the sense that they do belong
And i do not belong
Some only talk towards the heavens
When the end is feeling desperate
Have the overwhelming feeling
That there's nobody who's looking down
At least i'm looking down
