Lyrics:

A Sunday off in gay Paris
I was bound for the sacred street
Gods have dropped upon Montmartre
But not Rue de la Guitare
Mais pas Rue de la Guitare


Like melodies that never fade
These girls who found their masquerades
' is still a strange bizarre down on Rue de la Guitare
On Rue de la Guitare

Windows filled with long lost dreams
Unfinished songs on rusty strings
From Nazareth across the sea
She'd somehow caught up with me
Parfait a compris

I read the wood and felt the skies
I spoke with knights in smoky bars
How many songs, how many beers
Had cost her journey here

A toast to those who love to hear
A D18 play light foot clear
Music still lives in shops and bars
Along Rue de la Guitare
Rue de la Guitare

Now over here people sing
Comment ca va monsieur Buffett?
On veux voir une chanson a jou?e
Vie Rue de la Guitare