Why don't we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over, over, over


No good times, no bad times
There's no times at all
Just The New York Times

Sitting on the windowsill
Near the flowers


We might as well be apart
It hardly matters
We sleep separately

And drop a smile passing 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
Hanging from my mirror

Rattling 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 leaving you
I stop
I stop and think it over