One year, two years, time goes by.
People laugh and people cry.
Every morning the clock strikes eight.
I go to work. I close the gate.
And on my way, I sing a song,
about my wife, where I belong.
If the clouds get together
and talk about the weather,
if it’s rain they anticipate,
baby, make no mistake.
Yes the storm will break
but never me, you see.
Two years on.
Two years on.
But only you can see me,
only you can see me.
For what I’ve got
Sir Lancelot
was just a dream
and I am not.
For I am he
with something more,
it’s you and I reality.
If the clouds get together
and talk about the weather,
if it’s rain they anticipate,
baby, make no mistake.
Yes the storm will break
but never me, you see.
Two years on.
Two years on.
But only you can see me,
only you can see me.
Two years on.
Two years on.
Ah….
