It's a lesson too late for the learnin',
Made of sand, made of sand,
In the wink of an eye my soul is turnin',
In your hand, in your hand.
Are you goin' away with no word of farewell?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
Well I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind,
You know that was the last thing on my mind.
As we walk, all my thoughts are a-tumblin',
Round and round, round and round,
Underneath our feet the subways rumblin',
You've got reasons a-plenty for goin',
This I know, this I know,
For the weeds have been steadily growin',
Please don't go, please don't go.
As I lie in my bed in the mornin',
Without you, without you,
Each song in my breast dies a-bornin',
Without you, without you.
Page design by Lynn Lewis © - 2016 All Rites, Writes, Wrights, Rights & Wrongs Reserved