First Light of Paris is a bittersweet ode to the transient joy of romantic love. Like a flower that has only one night to bloom and then wither, and can only be preserved dry, pressed between the pages of a book – an imaginary “Annals of Paris", the "mecca" for romantic love. And the next evening, in another street corner, it is another couple's turn to live their moment in history and play out their love scene. Even though for Paris it is business as usual - another night, another page turned, but for each couple it is a once-in-a-lifetime memory. It is a play of contrast between the immortality of the ideal of Love (embodied in Paris) and the relative mortality and inconsequentiality of human love, despite how much gravity we attach to it.
lyrics
Last light in August
First flush as April
Rain-scented cobble
Brandishing glow
Off the lamp posts
Cool spurted whispers
Warm stolen kisses
Whimsical capers
Night elapses
In a faint stupor
Don't hush our step let it echo
Heed not the hour let them wake
By the first light of Paris
Our love will be pressed in its page
Scene from the big screen
Played out in blue tint
Miming a daydream
Culled from memory
Wrought of make-believe
Don't stir the air let it linger
Mind not the eyes turn them red
By the first light of Paris
Our tale will be spun in its thread
By the first light of Paris
Our love will be pressed in its page