| It's a lesson too late for the learning | |
| Made of sand, oh it's made of sand | |
| In the wink of an eye my soul keeps on turning | |
| In your hand, in your hand | |
| Are you going away with no word of farewell | |
| Will there be not a trace for me to find | |
| Well I could have loved you better | |
| I didn't mean to be unkind | |
| Oh you must know it was the last thing on my mind | |
| As we walked all my thoughts they are a tumbling down down | |
| Round and around, round and round | |
| And underneath I hear the subway's trumblin' | |
| Underground, underground | |
| Are you going away with no word of farewell | |
| Will there be not a trace left behind | |
| Well I could have loved you better | |
| I didn't mean to be unkind | |
| You know that was the last thing on my mind | |
| You've got reasons of plenty for going | |
| This I know, this I know | |
| For the weeds have been steadily growing | |
| Please don't grow, please don't grow | |
| Are you going away with no word of farewell | |
| Will there be not a trace left to find | |
| Well I could have loved you better | |
| I didn't mean to be unkind | |
| You know that was the last thing on my mind |
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