I used to keep score of every teardrop that would flow
Until like some punch drunk boxer you couldn't give no more
Bells they sounded and to corners we returned
Red to red dirt ground, blues retreat to blossom in bloom
As our hazy Mondays blur through to vague Thursdays
What we had in November was lost come September

A galaxy of oceans separate my disappointment from my disappointment in you
Yet for a chance encounter on a lonely Friday night
Our shadows would dance bathed in the crystal moonlight
For magic it weaves through the diamonds of a roadside bar
Our senses unravelled by some mystical cabalistic charm
So why should we ever try to make sense of it all
Seconds out - round two, don't ever stop, don't ever fall