Saint Catherine Avenue

There was a record store on the corner where we spent our Saturdays.
You picked a song I didn't understand,
But I still remember your face.
The bartender at the old hotel said the neighborhood had changed; I smiled and looked outside.
Some things stay,
Some fade away; I wasn't looking for something I lost.
I was only trying to find what I became.
Maybe every city keeps a story from the people passing through.