| I could throw my things together
|
| Hustle for the train
|
| Pay my weight in silver
|
| For the last seat on that westbound plane
|
| I would fidget in the taxi
|
| I would pray I find him in
|
| Get down right there on my knees
|
| But where would I begin
|
| There were eyes that seemed to reach me
|
| Arms that opened wide
|
| There were lips that seemed to know me
|
| It was bottled up inside me
|
| It was winter up in Boston
|
| It was springtime in DC
|
| It was June in Chattanooga
|
| It was much too much for me
|
| Now it’s a long way, a long way back
|
| To the man I used to love
|
| It’s a long way, such a long way back
|
| To the man I used to love
|
| A beautiful thing, liberation
|
| Lets you write your ticket to hell
|
| Offer your own explanation
|
| But the fact is this does not reflect too well on me
|
| Now it’s sizzling in Manhattan
|
| And the sirens down below
|
| Are screaming some disaster
|
| Like I don’t already know
|
| That my anchor man is leaving me
|
| Closing down the show
|
| There’s a preacher on the TV hollering
|
| «Girl, I told you so»
|
| Now it’s a long way, a long way back
|
| To the man I used to love
|
| It’s a long way, such a long way back
|
| To the man I used to love
|
| Such a long way back
|
| Such a long way back to the man I used to love
|
| It’s a long way back, a long way, a long way
|
| Such a long way |