I'm tired of these girlie magazines. I want to stop dreamin', and get back home to the real thing. Late last night I read the letter you sent. Woke up this morning, under a tent.
All the birds have been blue. They don't know what to do. Ever since you said goodbye to me. And the flowers in their gloom, have just refused to bloom.
I've been phoning. Night and morning. I heard you say. "Tell him I'm not home.". . Now you're confessing. But I'm still guessing. I've been your fool.
All the birds have been blue. They don't know what to do. Ever since you said goodbye to me. And the flowers in their gloom, have just refused to bloom.