The Good Times

A fairy tale’s not half as pretty when the fairy’s gone.
A berry’s taste is twice as bitter when the season’s wrong.
A player’s game is shot when there’s no one there to cheer them on.
A carnival’s a let down with no one there to share the fun.
With summer sailed away it’s easy to ignore this sleeping town,
but loneliness and grief are my only company in this house.
Rainy days and Monday’s never used to get me down,
but good times are always better with you around.
Time to kill with no companion at the Ferris-wheel.
No sugar left to mask the burden of this bitter pill.
A lonely trail to reach the summit of a lonely hill
to view the skyline that’s lacking luster now that you’re not here.
Keeping track of all your little trinkets in my lost and found.
Press them up to my ear to hear your voice but never hear a sound.
In pictures we framed, a lovely smile replaced my frown.
But good times were always better with you around.
But we still call them the good times.
Oh yeah, let’s not forget that they’re still the good times.
If you’re writing an album about me, then why would you wait for days like these when everything’s so happy and free?
Oh why would you wait for days like these to sing?