Why don't we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over,
Over,
Over

No good times, no bad times,
There's no times at all,
Just The New York Times,
Sitting on the windowsill
Near the flowers

We might as well be apart
It hardly matters,
We sleep separately

And drop a smile passing in the hall
But there's no laughs left
'Cause we laughed them all
And 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 saccharin

And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue

But each time I try on
The thought of leaving you,
I stop
I stop and think it over