It's the chill in the hollow of my bones
|
That's making my hands numb
|
And the sound of the windmill
|
But you won't tell me now where it's from
|
|
And solitude's sounds are making my eyes weep
|
And tossing and turning I can't make my mind sleep
|
And getting worked up from people I just meet
|
And this is the reason, I think
|
|
It's the ending of
|
Careless wants
|
But you are my favorite... love
|
|
Can we map the succession, the fever,
|
depression, the bad weeks
|
It was right in the quarter
|
But left by the river where we'd meet.
|
|
And solitude's sounds are making my eyes weep
|
And tossing and turning I can't make my mind sleep
|
And getting worked up from people I just meet
|
And this is the reason, I think
|
|
It's the ending of
|
Careless wants
|
But you are my favorite... love
|
|
It's the ending of
|
Careless wants
|
But you are my favorite... love
|
|
-----------------
|
My Favorite Love
|
| Maria Taylor |
