Tears on a pillow, eyes on the phone,
You pour all the love that you keep inside into a song,
Like ’he’s gone’, and these are the thoughts that you keep inside,
You smile from your window, and stand all alone
And pour all the love that you keep inside into the phone, into the phone
And like the leaves on the trees, like the carpenters song,
Like the planes and the trains and the lives that were young,
He’s gone and it feels like the words to a song
With the style of a widow, and the place of your own
You pour all the words that you keep inside into the phone, and sit alone
Cos there are the thoughts that you keep inside
And you smile from your window and stand all alone
And pour all the love that you keep inside into a song, into a song,
And like the leaves on the trees, like the carpenters song,
Like the planes and the trains and the lives that were young,
He’s gone and it feels like the words to a song
And like the stains on the names of the lives that were gone,
He’s gone and it feels like the words to a song,
So gone, so gone... |
