Va-Hi Village: Boutiques & Bistros

Lyrics

Alright, let's take a walk.
This is the part that's always moving.

The sun hits the awnings on North Highland.
Seven AM. You can smell the roast from the open doors.
Espresso machines hiss a morning prayer.
The recycling truck sings its glass-and-metal song.
A few early dogs pulling on leashes,
their owners grabbing a pastry, a paper, a start to the day.
This is the engine turning over.

This is the village heart, the main artery.
Where the whole neighborhood spills out onto the sidewalk.
From the bookshop to the bistro, from the old bar to the new boutique.
It's a current, a conversation, a hum you can feel in your feet.
Yeah, this is the Va-Hi village buzz.

Past noon, the pace picks up.
Sun-dresses in the window of a shop that knows your name.
Someone trying on vintage boots.
The floors of these old buildings creak with stories.
They say some of the first owners lived right upstairs,
woke up to the sound of the streetcar bell.
You can almost hear it, if you listen.

This is the village heart, the main artery.
Where the whole neighborhood spills out onto the sidewalk.
From the bookshop to the bistro, from the old bar to the new boutique.
It's a current, a conversation, a hum you can feel in your feet.
Yeah, this is the Va-Hi village buzz.

And just a block from those quiet bungalow streets,
the ones everyone photographs,
the day turns gold.
The patios on Virginia Avenue fill up, glass by glass.
And if you look up, just right, on the side of that brick wall...
A ghost sign for a soda that doesn't exist anymore.
Fading in the dusk. A little wink from the past.

The chatter gets louder now.
The clink of forks on ceramic plates.
Laughter from a table on Amsterdam.
The lights string a welcome from pole to pole.
Still moving.
Always moving.
Goodnight from the village.