Why don`t we stop fooling ourselves? The game is over, over, over
No good times, no bad times There`s no times at all Just The New York Times Sitting on the windowsill Near the flowers
We might as well be apart It hardly matters We sleep separately And drop a smile passing in the hall But there`s no laughs left `Cause we laughed them all And we laughed them all In a very short time
Time Is tapping on my forehead Hanging from my mirror Rattling the teacups And I wonder How long can I delay? We`re just a habit Like Saccharin
And I`m habitually feelin` kinda blue
But each time I try on The thought of leaving you I stop I stop and think it over
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