Once upon a time, a young American went to Paris with nothing but a guitar and a dream.
His name was Taylor Collins.
I play Taylor Collins.
And he dreamed of being a singer, a poet, a writer of songs,
he dreamed of fame....keep dreaming.
It was June 1969, he was backpacking through France when he walked into this small,
this little Parisian cafe right in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
And there he met a beautiful young waitress who had dreams of her own.
Her name was Faith
I play Faith
And Faith would be a dancer and one day hope to play the New York stage.
Oh, love was a song, life was a dance,
why it was as if their very fate was sealed within the pages of a fairytale.
And with every fairytale comes a lullabye, so Taylor
was writing one, one that would follow these young lovers for the rest of their lives.
La la la la, la la, la la la la. La la la la, our love will stay strong.
La la la la, la la, la la la la,
Let our fate write words to this song. (spoken) That's all I got so far.
But even fairytales come to an end,
and before the lullabye was finished he had to go back home.
He kissed her goodbye. A kiss with a promise to love her for eternity.
A kiss with a promise to bring Faith to America,
a kiss with a promise to finish the unfinished lullabye.
Taylor: I promise
But he never kept that promise. She never heard from him again.
Faith had his child but Taylor, he never knew.
And Faith named her little girl for Taylor's home far away.
She named her Brooklyn. And she would rock baby Brooklyn to sleep
with that simple unfinished lullabye
La la la la, la la, la la la la. La la la, Our love will stay strong.
Faith and Brooklyn:
La la la la, la la, la la la la
Let our fate write words to this song.
And soon Faith became the dancer she'd hoped to be,
know throughout the City of Lights as The Parisian Butterfly.
And she played all the grand stages, her name on every marquee.
Ah, but there was no joy in fame for this delicate young beauty,
for the singer, the poet, the writer of songs never returned.
And so for the next five years little Brooklyn would watch as her mother
revealed her broken heart in dance.
Five minutes! Five minutes to show time!
Merry Christmas mommy!
Thank you Brooklyn
[Thanks to Ayngl08@hotmail.com for lyrics]