Fridays in the Met

The Met, the Met, oh, music net,
My eyes from joy are often wet,
There is no better place, I bet,
To sit and listen tete-a-tete
It's joyful wonderful quartet,

You are my life, you are my way,
I come to you in March and May,
In April, January and June,
Under the sun, under the moon,
You're my escape, you're my lagoon.

I won't go to music halls,
I won't visit shopping malls,
I won't collect hats, stamps or dolls,
I'll leave aside my tennis balls,
I'm in the Met when evening falls.

Under your vaults I found peace,
A harbor from all stormy seas,
The place where nobody will tease,
And worries fly away like bees,
And with myself I feel at ease.

May 2011, Mew York

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