|
Somewhere, somebody is whistling, |
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But I can't feel so upbeat |
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'Cause history tends to repeat for me. |
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Somewhere, somebody is walking |
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Hand-in-hand with you, |
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but I'm just not that lucky. |
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It's true... |
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And I'm just not that fortunate. |
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I always seem to get there too late; |
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I've never been blessed with good timing. |
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It takes a while to fall into place, |
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When it does, it seems I'm too late. |
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I've never been blessed with good timing. |
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Somewhere, sombody is feeling content, |
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But it's not me, not me... |
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'Cause history tends to repeat, you see. |
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Somewhere, somebody is looking into your big, brown eyes, |
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And I'm just not that fortunate. |
|
I always seem to get there too late; |
|
I've never been blessed with good timing. |
|
It takes a while to fall into place, |
|
When it does, it seems I'm too late. |
|
I've never been blessed with good timing. |
|
It takes a while to fall into place, |
|
When it does, it seems I'm too late; |
|
I've never been blessed with good timing. |
