[Heyworth]

At the age of thirty-seven
She realized she'd never ride
Through Paris
In a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair

Breaks my heart every time.

[miss marmelstein]

I love that song, too, it's pretty and evocative; of course, I was in my forties before I saw Paris and never rode through it in a sports car (only a broken down taxi)...so I don't really understand what Lucy's problem was.

[theFIRMbss]

>Breaks my heart every time

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Move along staying close to the wall
Looking over your shoulder just in time.
Avoid the light, close your eyes
And put your hand in mine.
And put your hand in mine.

Are we in danger, or is it that
You think we might be
But I think I'd like to get out of here,
This place it frightens me,
This place it frightens me.

Running for our lives,
At least we're pretending we are.
Running for our lives,
We never get very far.
We never get very far.
We never get very far.

Stop pretending
This is a child's adventure,
The only way I can take it
Is playing the game.

Be quiet, there's a gate ahead.
Do you think we can make it
Will it be different, or just the same
How long can we keep escaping,
How long can we keep escaping,
How long can we keep escaping
Into another prison

Running for our lives,
At least we're pretending we are.
Running for our lives,
We never get very far.
We never get very far.
We never get very far.

Move along staying close to the wall,
Looking over your shoulder just in time.
Avoid the light, close your eyes
And put your hand in mine
And put your hand in mine.

Running for our lives,
At least we're pretending we are.
Running for our lives,
We never get very far.
We never get very far.
We never get very far.

We never get very far.
We never get very far.
We never get very far...

[sionnsar]

"At the age of thirty-seven
She realized she'd never ride
Through Paris
In a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair"
Breaks my heart every time.

Never say never. My Franco/Anglophone wife and I are a bit more, um, mature than that, and in a few weeks she's going to see Paris again, for the first time since her childhood.

Believe you me, if she wants to ride through Paris with the (warm?) wind in her hair, I'll rent a sports car and brave Parisian traffic. It can't be worse than New Delhi where you need "good horn, good brakes and good luck!"

And I'll have insurance...

(Tha gaol agamsa ort, a' graidh!)