| We take so much for granted, he and I
|
| We share a life in one dimension
|
| Our problems always seem to cloud the sky
|
| But we don’t pay them much attention
|
| And with every day
|
| We drift apart
|
| I can feel it in my heart
|
| That man is not the man I used to know
|
| And though a part of me still needs him so
|
| There’s something wrong
|
| And I feel my love die
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| No angry words and no heart-rending scenes
|
| And we should take it as a warning
|
| We keep on going through the old routines
|
| Exchanging kisses in the morning
|
| And with every day we drift apart
|
| And the fear is in my heart
|
| I read the signs and I should be mature
|
| And yet a child could not be more unsure
|
| There’s something wrong
|
| And I feel my love die
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| Our passion’s just a distant memory
|
| And in it’s place a dull frustration
|
| A cold indifference where there used to be
|
| At least a frequent irritation
|
| But a feeling still
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| Of tenderness
|
| And of pity, so I guess
|
| I’ll be the woman in his arms tonight
|
| If he should need someone to hold him tight
|
| He’s like a child
|
| But I feel my love die
|
| Slowly
|
| That man is not the man I used to know
|
| And though a part of me still needs him so
|
| There’s something wrong
|
| And I feel my love die
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| Slowly, slowly
|
| Rafael Nogueira — abba@certto. |
| Com. |
| Br |