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Well I'm sitting alone |
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with my guitar slidly out of tune |
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and it's a lovely night in June. |
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And I try to write a song |
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With a happy slomo melody |
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like I have tried so many times before |
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But I can't really tell you, what is wrong |
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but all that comes out is another sad song |
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maybe it's because I slept too long |
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and nobody called me on the phone. |
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Maybe I should hit town, have some fun |
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to smalltalking drink to the morning sun |
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maybe I should buy a brandnew dress |
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or learn up a usefull game like chess. |
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No I can't really tell you, |
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what is wrong |
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but all that comes out is another sad song |
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maybe it's because I slept too long |
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and nobody called me at the phone |
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Maybe I should hit town have some fun |
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to smalltalking drink to the morning sun |
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maybe I should buy a brandnew dress |
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or learn up a usefull game like chess. |
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Another lonely night, turns to day |
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with another hair of mine, turning grey |
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No I can't really tell you |
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just what is wrong, my dear, |
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but still what comes out is |
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another sad song. |
