| We talked for hours
|
| And nothing made much sense
|
| I’m sick and tired
|
| Of sitting on the fence
|
| Cos I’ve been sitting here for hours
|
| And I thought I found the answers to
|
| The questions I was asking
|
| Now I’m not sure what they were
|
| Amongst the postcards of Catalunya
|
| And the late night conversations, I
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys…
|
| We talk in circles
|
| We move in narrow lines
|
| I miss the grey patch
|
| Between the black and white
|
| And I’ve been sitting here for hours
|
| And I thought I found the answers to
|
| The questions I was asking
|
| Now I’m not sure what they were
|
| Amongst the postcards of Catalunya
|
| And the late night conversations, I
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys…
|
| I miss the silence
|
| Of sitting here alone
|
| I think I love you
|
| But I’m better on my own
|
| Cos I’ve been sitting here for hours
|
| And I thought I found the answers to
|
| The questions I was asking
|
| Now I’m not sure what they were
|
| Amongst the postcards of Catalunya
|
| And the late night conversations, I
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys…
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys…
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys…
|
| I can’t find the hows or whys… |