The sheets and I in disarray
In evidence before the light of day
A robe is strewn across the floor
The wind blows in through the open door
And I'm gone
The sky is clear
The road is wide
There's not a single sign of life
A suitcase filled with memorabilia
And one last shot in a magazine
And I'm gone
And how could it be so wrong
When it was so right?
Writer(s): Lloyd Cole
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