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Sunday New York Times - Matt Nathanson
Leaves and the rain falling outside
Taxi waited in the street
Gave you my keys told you I'd try
But we both knew better didn't we
I made my way to JFK in world record time
Hoping I would miss the flight
You and I were fighting sleep
Beautiful wasted promises we promised to keep
At least 'til we said goodbye
Sometimes you're still mine
Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times
You were the saint I was the liar
At least that's how I remember it
Left all our dreams all our desires
On the steps of your apartment
The Brooklyn bridge your olive skin
Framed in black and white
I miss how simple love could be
When you and I were fighting sleep
Beautiful wasted promises we promised to keep
At least 'til we said goodbye
Sometimes you're still mine
Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times
Running wild down st Marks
Raw and breathless in your arms
Jumping trains to the park
When the world was ours
When you and I were fighting sleep
Under the blankets promises we promised to keep
At least 'til we said goodbye
Sometimes you're still mine
Between the lines of the Sunday New York Times
