| The time has come to say goodbye;
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| I turn my cheek, I try not to cry
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| There’s nothing to say, there’s no one to blame;
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| I don’t know when we shall meet again
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| A house without you is not our role;
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| It’s a lonely place, a dark old place
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| So I think of you by the telephone
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| And I see your face, your warm embrace
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| Paris, Frankfurt, Moscow, Bombay…
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| So many nights, so far away
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| New York, Tokyo, Geneva, and Rome…
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| My heart would grow cold without the telephone
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| Her: When I find I’m far from home… the telephone
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| Him: The telephone
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| Her: That keeps me from feeling alone… the telephone
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| Him: The telephone
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| Her: When I’m feeling sad and blue… the telephone
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| Him: The telephone
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| Her: That connects me straight to you… the telephone
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| Him: The telephone
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| Her: Hello?
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| Him: Hello
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| Her: 'So good to hear your voice again. |
| I miss you…
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| Him: I miss you too
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| Her: You’ll call again tomorrow?
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| Him: Of Course
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| Her: All right then… goodbye
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| Him: Goodbye
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| Restaurants and hotel rooms, it’s never the same without you
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| And the foreign faces and the foreign streets wouldn’t be half bad with your
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| arms around me
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| The buses and the trains and the tickets and the travel and the parties and the
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| people and the meetings and the battle
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| For they just don’t mean a thing. |
| When the telephone rings, my heart sings
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| Paris, Frankfurt, Moscow Bombay
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| So many nights, so far away
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| New York, Tokyo, Geneva, and Rome
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| My heart would grow cold without the telephone
|
| Her: When I find I’m far from home… the telephone
|
| Him: The telephone
|
| Her: That keeps me from feeling alone… the telephone
|
| Him: The telephone
|
| Her: When I’m feeling sad and blue… the telephone
|
| Him: The telephone
|
| Her: That connects me straight to you… the telephone
|
| Him: The telephone |