Babette's Cafe: Inman Park Bistro Lights

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Nineteen ninety-two.
Five-seventy-three North Highland Avenue.
Marla Engel had a vision from a Danish film.
A feast, for us.
She never said much.
She just poured the butter and the wine, and let the food do the work.

[Verse 2]
Tables so close you could borrow your neighbor's salt.
Or their secrets.
The low hum of a room that knows it’s special.
Then the steam rising from the bowl.
Mussels in white wine.
Always the mussels.
We dragged the last piece of bread through the sauce… every time.

[Chorus]
And oh, the bistro lights.
Our own small constellation for a quarter century.
Little warm suns strung up under the ceiling.
They watched the first dates, the quiet proposals, the Tuesday nights that felt like anniversaries.
Those Inman Park lights.

[Verse 3]
The city got louder outside.
But in here, the world stayed the size of a small table.
The clink of a fork, the murmur of a story.
A little piece of Paris, right where we needed it.
No pretense.
Just the good silver, and the right glass for the wine.

[Bridge]
Then April of seventeen came around.
The feast was over.
Marla put down her pans.
No grand announcement, just a quiet closing of the door.
A final flicker.

[Chorus]
And oh, the bistro lights.
Our own small constellation for a quarter century.
Little warm suns strung up under the ceiling.
They watched the first dates, the quiet proposals, the Tuesday nights that felt like anniversaries.
Those Inman Park lights.

[Outro]
Now it's just a memory.
A ghost of a glow on North Highland.