How many songs have these worn heart strings still got left?
I awoke this morning off key and quite bereft but well
My pen it is still willing and the paper it receives.
We caught up with the moorhen and we joked about our dreams.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, dear you'd better stay;
I couldn't care about you any more than I do now today.
Patience is a virtue, good things come to those who wait;
But who will be the judge of when the hour is getting late?
And anyway there is that other one about fish and the sea!
Pick you cliche, start the clock, compare notes over tea.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, dear you'd better stay;
I couldn't care about you any more than I do now today.
Spring it turns to summer, just as night it turns to day.
When in the autumn of our years will we opine away about
How foolish and how young we were, how little we all knew.
I love all my mistakes and well this heart it still beats true.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, dear you'd better stay;
I couldn't care about you any more than I do now today.
Actions speak louder than words but what about a song?
A most prolific muse you've been, I've toiled here late and
Long into the night, trying to make sense of all these things and more;
Like why I feel the way I do when you walk through the door.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, dear you'd better stay;
I couldn't care about you any more than I do now today.
My pen it has momentum but the day waits for no man.
There are so many things I know I'll never understand
I'll be here in September for the rest I cannot say.
I'm sure of change, death and taxes, sunshine and of rain.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, dear you'd better stay;
I couldn't care about you any more than I do now today.