every time we say goodbye i wonder why a little,
why the gods above me who must be in the know
think so little of me they allow you to go...
when you near, there´s such an air of spring,
about it
i can hear a lark somewhere waiting to sing about it,
there´s no love song finer
but how strange the change from major to minor
every time we say goodbye...
when you near, there´s such an air of spring
about it...
Cole Porter
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