I'm no good at being noble
We're not talking Kings and Queens
The problems of three little people
Don't amount to a hill of beans
And if our hill of beans should tumble
Who'd care or notice that they'd spilled
Daylight burns night dreams and crumbles
Them to ashes unfulfilled
But we'll always have those days in Paris
And you'll only have to lift the lid
On memory to keep and cherish
Don't cry
Here's looking at you kid
But I've still got a job to do
Mere words ring sweet but hollow
You can't be pan of what I do
Where I'm going you can't follow
But we'll always have those days in Paris
And you'll only have to lift the lid
On memory to keep and cherish
Don't cry
Here's looking at you kid
Of all the bars in all the world
And the gin joints in the town
She walks right into mine, God damn
You played it for her, play it for me
Play it
Play it, Sam
