I picture the place where there are only pleasant things
truly no one Is lonely and cold as here
Everyone has got someone to lean on but me
Everybody has got somebody to hold but me
Then I think of you but I feel alone again
I open the book and find me a place I’ve never been
I’d rather off there than go home without you
Everyone knows that love isn’t simple as a bee
Surely no one is born to be lost indeed
Then I think of you but I feel alone again
`Why have all things come to this end”
Why has our home turn to a cold place
I picture the place where there are only pleasant things
Surely no one is born to be lost indeed
Then I think of you but I feel alone again