Springtime in Paris, so many memories Where love first begun And even though he's gone away He'll always be the one I walk the boulevard of souvenirs Imagining that he's still here The stairs that led up to his door The small room on the second floor The corner café 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