Backstreets of Paris

BACKSTREETS OF PARIS (Monsieur L'Vampyre) One spring and sunny day I set my sight behind my darkened lenses, feigning night, so I might stroll in my own way and see what's life in light of day, my thread put to my back, I travelled light; when Paris comes to all its greenery, there's not a sight that means so much to me as flowers holding to the hair of Madamoiselles out ev'rywhere, and laughing children, that's how life should be. The beat of Paris leads a steady pace and if you stop, you're holding up the race; there's not enough time in a day to walk all of Champs Elysees and so you miss the smile of ev'ry face. But there are places few would dare to go with streets so narrow, darkness is the glow, where yesterday's not in the past, but here and now, and here to last, with cobble stones layed many years ago; a world of silence, far from natures care, a place of echos, snapping here to there; the signs of life flow past your feet and to the Seine, just down the street, but leaves the scent of pissoires ev'rywhere. This is a time, more than a place to be, the soul of Paris few can ever see, the very secrets of her heart, where light of Paris had its start, and left here for the likes of you and me. We'll hear her whisper in the mid of day, or we might hear a concertina play, but all that's Paris surely lies right here for us before our eyes, and it's the dream Parissiens want to stay.