The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay
I heard the laughter of her heart in every street café
The last time I saw Paris, her trees were dressed for spring
And lovers walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing
I dodged the same old taxicabs that I had dodged for years
The chorus of their squeaky horns was music to my ears
The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay
No matter how they change her, I'll remember her that way —Jerome Kern
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Photo by me, 2007, the last time I saw Paris 😥
