| Time is a corridor that winds through my life
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| Out of each door comes a day
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| And when that door closes and I’ve said good night
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| Another door opens again
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| Down in the corridor there will be a time
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| When I shall run out of doors
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| I’ll scramble through windows and pull up the blinds
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| In another room I’m still not too sure
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| That there’s no room for me down here
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| I shall be sorry
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| It will be clear
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| And I’ll regret not seeing her more
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| In today’s room love’s at the door
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| I look at my wrist watch, the hands ever turn
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| Her face is there I can see
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| I’ll always regret it but I’ll never learn
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| Time is so precious to me
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| Out in the corridor she sits in a chair
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| Here I am pacing the floor
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| I’ve not got the courage, my hand combs my hair
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| In today’s room I’m still not too sure
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| That there’s no room for me down here
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| Will I be sorry
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| Well that won’t be clear
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| And I’ll regret not seeing her more
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| In today’s room love’s at the door
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| In today’s room, strawberry jam
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| No hope of blue skies holiday plans
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| In today’s room, trips to the shops
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| She’s on the doorstep carrying a box |