Overs

Why don't we stop foolin' ourselves? The game is over, over, over No good times, no bad times There's no times at all Just The New York Times Sittin' on the windowsill Near the flowers We might as well be apart It hardly matters, we sleep separately And drop a smile passin' in the hall But there's no laughs left 'Cause we laughed them all And we laughed them all In a very short time Time is tapping on my forehead Hangin' from my mirror Rattlin' the teacups And I wonder- How long can I delay? We're just a habit, like saccharin And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue But each time I try on the thought of leavin' you I stop I stop and think it over