|
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 |