The Germans burned the library down
They built the library back up
There’s no glitter, there’s no glamour
Just people on the floor and dancing together
The university gave a package full of fruit
And in the midst of the sea of students I stood
The place where I could be on my own
Got my new address and simply walked home
How I loved wandering in the weekends
Passing the graffiti walls and making new friends
Sipping tea with my legs stretched on the balcony
While Jonathan played guitar and Ismael read my poetry
Entering the churches so dark and deserted
My light footsteps on cobblestones and the saints all dead
Waking up to the light breeze of fresh clay and sandalwood
The creaking of the doors in secondhand bookshops
And those days all my soul could ever need
Where people talking on the streets with coffee
I sat at the white desk singing Latin in the mornings
Followed my own pack into the night for street haunting
When the last rays of sun kept shimmering over our feet
My roommates moved our dinner table to the street
Stood by the turtles in the garden swimming dreamily
The massive pumpkins and the Japanese Cherry Tree
Climbed that hill to the old psychiatric hospital
They turned into a prestigious conservatory with parties
The jazz sessions on Sundays with my ragged roommates
Between the brunching old ladies I finished my essays
The Germans burned the library down again
They built the library back up and said We Will Protect Knowledge
The guys cooking and talking about future plans in the kitchen
Lost it when they figured I once spoke to Emma Watson
I went to the early morning mass in my dress like a true catholic
Gave dramatic sighs because we’re born to die and I was still wasted
And my forever-arguing-millionaire-uncles-in-their-canal-side homes
Paused because they heard my grandpa’s footsteps echo
The fellow who so happily told me about his Erasmus dissertation
While I was way too hungover to even properly listen
When I called my mother and my aunt after they visited
It turned out they panicked in Brussels and were on their way to Paris
Waking up at noon like a nest of puppies on the bed
People spread over the floor and resting their messed heads
The last time I was danced my feet off so healthy and happily
Must have been somewhere in that medieval city
We will wake you up when it’s all over they promised
So I cradled myself into that dream peacefully