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[Begin softly, and build to a slow crescendo throughout]
She left on a Monday,
She's a siren down the road
In your herringbone overcoat
That you don't expect to get back
And it's an ordinary sky
Today's like any other day
When all of the aeroplanes
Write her name in the clouds
And nothing's wrong
But it's already Sunday
And you know just how Sunday
Was the day that she would come around
Go to her, foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this ease your own hurt
It's all like sinking
You're trying to stay afloat
Like a wind-blown paper boat
Over uncharted seas
There's no question why
You're driving to kill some time
Racing the powerlines
Back into town
Go to her, foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this ease your own hurt
Go to her, foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this ease your own hurt
Make this ease your own hurt
Make this ease your own hurt
Make this ease your own hurt