Recovery
The months go by,
And I don't think of you,
The signal is frail,
An imprint of what you do,
So I turn up the sound,
And you are nowhere,
I have learnt this to my cost.
But I maintain,
In the slow lane,
I maintain,
In the slow lane.
The scent goes by,
Still I smell of you,
You say I cry,
At the merest thought of you,
So you let me down,
To laugh at nothing,
I have learnt this for myself.
But I maintain,
In the slow lane,
I maintain,
In the slow lane.
So I turn up the sound,
And you are nowhere,
I have learnt this to my cost.
But I maintain,
In the slow lane,
I maintain,
In the slow lane.
Turn down the sound,
You are nowhere,
You let me down,
To laugh at nothing.
I have learnt this to my cost,
I have learnt this for myself,
I have learnt this to my cost,
I have learnt this for myself.