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.