Le Poids Poli

[Verse 1]
A C.R.S. van sits on the Quai de Valmy.
He watches its roof through the smudged window glass.
At nine-oh-seven, the numbers change slowly.
The warmth from the plastic chair is someone else's past.
He draws a chalk line on the tile with his shoe,
a temporary border for the new.

[Chorus]
He builds the smile from steel and wire,
a polite design for the tender fire.
A load-bearing wall to hold the weight,
beyond the guarded gate.

[Verse 2]
The air smells of damp coats and old paper files.
His own reflection is a stranger in the glare.
“Formulaire B-douze,” she says across the tiles,
with a voice like a closing drawer, a line of cold air.
He feels the pressure build behind his eyes,
a fault line hidden under calm replies.

[Chorus]
He builds the smile from steel and wire,
a polite design for the tender fire.
A load-bearing wall to hold the weight,
beyond the guarded gate.

[Bridge]
The stamp comes down, a sound like a coastal stone.
He remembers the gulls over Saint-Vincent.
He came here to build, but he's never felt more alone.

[Chorus]
He builds the smile from steel and wire,
a polite design for the tender fire.
A load-bearing wall to hold the weight,
beyond the guarded gate.