Springtime in Paris, so many memories

Where love first begun

And even though hes gone away

Hell always be the one



I walk the boulevard of souvenirs

Imagining that hes still here

The stairs that led up to his door

The small room on the second floor



The corner caf still the same

But no ones seems to know his name

But I remember yesteryear

Along the boulevard of souvenirs



Walk on a Sunday down the Champs Ellyse

Soft candlelight and wine

And hand in hand along the Seine

I thought that he was mine



Repeat

Repeat