Sunday New York Times

Leaves and the rain falling outside

Taxi waited in the street

Gave you my keys, told you I'd try

But we both knew better, didn't we?

I made my way to JFK in world record time

Hoping I would miss the flight

You and I were fighting sleep

Beautiful wasted promises we promised to keep

At least till we said goodbye

Sometimes you're still mine

Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times

You were the saint, I was the liar

At least that's how I remember it

Left all our dreams, all our desires

On the steps of your apartment

The Brooklyn bridge, your olive skin

Framed in black and white

I miss how simple love could be

When you and I were fighting sleep

Beautiful wasted promises we promised to keep

At least till we said goodbye

Sometimes you're still mine

Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times

Running wild down St. Marks

Raw and breathless in your arms

Jumping trains to the park

When the world was ours

You and I were fighting sleep

Under the blankets, promises we promised to keep

At least till we said goodbye

Sometimes you're still mine

Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times