The concert was today.
I heard the wild crowd moan.
It's not that life's distasteful to me,
It's just that I am all alone.
If I should hear a bird,
Or when I'm making toast,
It's in the smallest moments when I
Expect the least, I think of you the most.
It's not that it's a mystery,
This newly-found malaise.
The trouble is
The mystery
Has taken your place.
I turn my head away.
Now everything is gone.
It's taken this catastrophe,
To see what you mean to me.
If I could have my way,
I'd turn and start again.
We'd sing and dance and laugh and be
Exactly the same as we were then.