Most of my evenings I spend on my own, listening to Spanish guitars

Next year I say Barcelona for me; late nights in dark Spanish bars

Sipping my whisky, then having one more, and smoking my black cigarettes

Asking Dolores to come home with me, knowing I'll have no regrets

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?

I know what I know, I go where I go

Sometimes on Sundays I stroll through the park down by the carousel

Hearing the children ride round in delight to a tune by my old friend Ravel

One that he sang for me one rainy night as I walked with him down by the Seine

How I love Paris, the music, the fun - I go there again and again

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?

I know what I know, I go where I go

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?

I know what I know, I go where I go

Ah, the impressionists up at the Met, I visit whenever I can

It's bonjour to Vincent, bravo to Henri but the one that I love is Cezanne

And over his shoulder I silently watch as the small canvas bursts into flame

We stop at the inn on the way back to town, where the old men drink wine with their games

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?

I know what I know, I go where I go

And if it's not true, what harm can it do?

I know what I know, I go where I go