The last time I saw paris her heart was warm and gay i heard the laughter of her heart in every street cafe.
the last time I saw paris her trees were dreesed for spring and lovers walked beneath the trees and birds from songs to sing.
And learned from songs to sing.
I doged the same old taxi cabs that I doged for years the echo of their squeaky horns was music to my years.
The last time I saw Paris her heart was warm and gay, and no matter how they change her I'll remember her that way.
The last time I saw paris...