My love and I were just seasonal lovers
I lost all faith in him
he was a scourge to his sensitive pride.

Today we are in a different country
Our smiles is now upside down
Our laugher is seldom heard,
Between us is the Brooklyn Bridge,
When he uses to look at me
his brown eyes tell his soul

It’s going to be colder outside,
For lovers like us,
He with his flannel pajamas
And I with my heavy pink robe and
fuzzy slippers
it's going to be a lonely winter