Strolling down Bourbon Street, centuries of pain and beauty beneath our feet,
Dancing on the heels of the greats to a rhythym the city seems to make from out of nothing,
en Louisiane,
à La Nouvelle-Orléans,
We’re alive, like the jazz, and smoke, and black magic floating through the air,
we’re wild, we’re free.
I love you, I love you, Je t’aime, Je t’aime,
Down by the Bayou, drunk on Rue Dauphine, on St. Charles Street,
Tracing the footsteps of Degas,
of Hemingway, Capote, Williams,
Sweet city beneath the sea,
Hold steady, hold on tight.
sealed in ink 