As we stepped towards the gateway
Of this old and troubled place
And we felt its spirit call with every breath.
And the crows arose like midnight
From the facets of its face
As they taunted us with tales of love and death.
And behind its empty windows
Sang the voices of the past
And their long-forgotten stories filled the air.
We are mad and we are restless
We are poor and dispossessed.
We're the women of the old Salpêtrière.