Thus flows the Seine, it which
ebbs with such powerful narcotics.
Thus flows the Seine, its sky stirred
to a Starry Night; the blood-inheritence
of great vengeance flowing forth as a mighty
fire.
Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, or Death!
(The latter being all the easier.)
So sits Sydney, just like him,
directionless man of destiny;
uninspired inspiration to the dead
and dying,
unlikely and unforseen, unbeknownst to him,
a savior.
Thus flows the Seine, its savage
depths recepticules of ancient suffering,
final resting place of human myseries,
swirling concoction of human brew.
So sits Carton, his
sleepless face bathed
in sunlight, his hands
seated upon his legs;
Self in hand,
Spirit expanding,
Thus flows the Seine.
