Bastille, my sunshine

A parody of “Steal my sunshine” by Len
By Marcy

I was lying in my cell on Sunday morning of last week
Indulging in some rancid meat
It’s a dank and stony room, and it feels like it’s gonna be my tomb
The walls are stone and three feet deep
I’ve been here for a year, though my sentence wasn’t very clear but
The aristocrats think I’m a creep
All I did was make a pun in a pamphlet about the King’s latest fun
Now I’m in Bastille sitting on my bum

I know they’ve got it in for me
(Bastille, my sunshine)
Calling me a revolutionary
(Bastille, my sunshine)
Got flea bites on my knees
(Bastille, my sunshine)

I was lying on the bench that serves as a bed in my suite
L-A-T-E-R that week
The stale baguette I ate was starting to dissipate
And hunger crept back into me
I heard shouting at the gates and someone yelled “no, no please wait!”
(But in French, of course, that’s what we speak)
And outside I heard the guns, but I was locked up and couldn’t run
So I missed a million miles of fun

And now, I’ve got to flee
(Bastille, my sunshine)
It’s been a lovely stay but I must leave
(Bastille, my sunshine)
Wonder what they’ll do with me
(Bastille, my sunshine)
I know they’ve got it in for me
(Bastille, my sunshine)
Calling me a revolutionary
(Bastille, my sunshine)
Got flea bites on both my feet
(Bastille, my sunshine)