

(hm-mmmm) The shadows on the floor are growing long
The record spins its final,
dusty song
I leave the letters on the wooden table
I'll read them when I feel a bit more stable
Maybe tomorrow,
I will find the words
Maybe tomorrow, when the early birds start to sing I'll face the
changing of the seasons Without looking for the reasons (oh-ohh)
The clock is ticking slow against the wall
Outside the autumn leaves begin to fall
I draw the curtains,
let the evening fade
Into the quiet space that we both made
Maybe tomorrow,
I will find the words
Maybe tomorrow, when the early birds start to sing I'll face the
changing of the seasons Without looking for the reasons
Maybe tomorrow... (maybe tomorrow)