Recovery

                                  The months go by,

And I don't think of you,

The signal is frail,

An imprint of what you do,



So I turn up the sound,

And you are nowhere,

I have learnt this to my cost.



But I maintain,

In the slow lane,

I maintain,

In the slow lane.



The scent goes by,

Still I smell of you,

You say I cry,

At the merest thought of you,



So you let me down,

To laugh at nothing,

I have learnt this for myself.



But I maintain,

In the slow lane,

I maintain,

In the slow lane.



So I turn up the sound,

And you are nowhere,

I have learnt this to my cost.



But I maintain,

In the slow lane,

I maintain,

In the slow lane.



Turn down the sound,

You are nowhere,

You let me down,

To laugh at nothing.



I have learnt this to my cost,

I have learnt this for myself,

I have learnt this to my cost,

I have learnt this for myself.