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(John Phillips)
Rooms that we have lived in,
The things that they have seen;
Rooms that you shared with me,
And the rooms in between...
When youæ®e gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love.
Mornings we would wake up
Just to taste our love again,
Afraid of some break-up
Before the day could end.
When youæ®e gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love;
Empty rooms without your love.
Why canæ° we seem to get it on?
(Why canæ° we seem to get it on)
Words remain unspoken (words...);
Thoughts cannot be heard
(Thoughts... cannot be heard).
Loveæ¯ just a token
Without some spoken word.
When your gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love.
When youæ®e gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love;
Empty rooms without your love.
Why canæ° we seem to get it on?
(Why canæ° we seem to get it on)
Rooms that you will live in
Not a part of me.
(Theyæ£l never see...)
Rooms that youæ£l make love in;
Rooms Iæ³e never seen.
When youæ®e gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love...
When youæ®e gone, thereæ¯ a drought of love...
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