If to day

was not flec an end less high way,

if to night ty

in was not an end less trail,

if to mor row hear and noth ing else was n’t o such a long time,

then lone some mem would mean (A)noth ing to me at all.

Yes, and on ly if my (A)own true love was (D)wait ing,

if I could hear her heart

soft ly pound ing,

if (G)on ly

(A)she was ly ing by me,

then I’d (G)lie

in my bed

once a gain.

I can’t see ty

my re sil tion in the wa ter,

I can’t speak ty

in the sounds that show no pain.

But none I can’t hear and noth ing else the ech o of my foot steps,

I can’t re mem ber the (A)sound ing of my own name.

Yes, and on ly if my (A)own true love was (D)wait ing,

if I could hear her heart

soft ly pound ing,

if (G)on ly

(A)she was ly ing by me,

then I’d (G)lie

in my bed

once a gain.

There’s can’t beau

If to day

Hmm.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Hmm.