The last time I saw Paris. Her heart was warm and gray. I heard the laughter of her heart in every street cafe. The last time I saw Paris. Her trees were dressed for spring.
Someday we'll build a home on a hilltop high. You and I. Shiny and new a cottage that two can fill. And we'll be pleased to be called. "The folks who live on the hill".
Someday we'll build a home. On a hilltop high, you and I,. Shiny and new, a cottage that two can fill.. And we'll be pleased to be called. "The folks who live on the hill.".
I hear music when I look at you,. A beautiful theme of every. Dream I ever knew.. Down deep in my heart I hear it play.. I feel it start, then melt away..