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This Time Of The Year

de Steve Tyrell

Every time we say goodbye
I die a little
And every time we say goodbye
I wonder why a little
Why the gods above me
Who should be in the know
Think so little of me
They allow you to go

And when you're near
There's such an air
Of spring about it
I can hear a lark somewhere
Begin to sing about it
There's no love song finer
But how strange the change
From major to minor
Every time we say goodbye

There's no love song finer
But how strange the change
From major to minor
Every time we say goodbye
Every time we say goodbye

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