France is a beautiful place this time of year.
In the air, not a shred of drear.
The trees are stripped of their leaves as snow falls to the ground.
The crunching of leaves beneath feet is a peaceful sound.

France is a beautiful place this time of year.
The chatting of friends is all you can hear.
There is something in the air that feels sort of sweet,
As friends and family walk down the street.

France is a beautiful place this time of year.
It seems that no one would ever shed a tear.
Then suddenly, day turns to night,
And it seems nothing will ever go right.

France is a beautiful place this time of year,
But now everybody has something to fear.
The darkness has come out, has been revealed,
And everyone's fate is forever sealed.

France is a beautiful place this time of year.
It seems no saving grace will ever appear.
The shadows are looming, poised to attack,
And now it is too late to ever go back.

Then the night turns back to day, and everything is alright.
Everything is alright, but really, not quite.

I hope you thought that was good, cause I sure didn't.
-Ainslee 🇫🇷