Why don't we stop foolin' ourselves
   The game is over, over, over
   No good times, no bad times
   There's no times at all
   Just the New York Times
  
   Sittin' by the window sill
   Near the flowers
   We might as well be aaprt
   It hardly matters
   We sleep sep'rately
  
   And drop a smile
   Passin' in the hall
   But there's no laughs left
   'Cause 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 saccharine
   And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue
   But each time I try on the thought of leavin' you
   I stop...
   I stop and think it over