Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 6:18 | ||||
2. |
| 0:45 | ||||
3. |
| 4:25 | ||||
4. |
| 7:20 | ||||
Yesterdays, yesterdays
Days I knew as happy sweet sequestered days Olden days, golden days Days of mad romance and love Then gay youth was mine, truth was mine Joyous free and flaming life, then truth was mine Sad am I, glad am I? For today I'm dreaming of yesterdays Yesterdays, yesterdays Days I knew as happy sweet sequestered days Golden days, olden days Days of mad romance and love Then gay youth was mine, truth was mine Joyous free and flaming life, then truth was mine Sad am I, glad am I? For today I'm dreaming of yesterdays |
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5. |
| 0:35 | ||||
6. |
| 5:40 | ||||
7. |
| 5:08 | ||||
8. |
| 0:20 | ||||
9. |
| 6:28 | ||||
I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string I'd say that I had spring fever But I know it isn't even spring I'm as starry eyed and vaguely discontented Like a nightingale without a song to sing Oh, why should I have spring fever When I know it isn't even spring? I keep wishing I were somewhere else Walking down a strange new street Hearing words that I have never heard From a man I have yet to meet I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud Or a robin on the wing But I feel so gay in a melancholy way That it might as well be spring Yes, it might, might as well be spring Oh, I keep wishing I were somewhere else Walking down a strange new street Hearing words that I have never, never heard From a man I have yet to meet I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud Or a robin on the wing My, I feel so gay in a melancholy way That it might as well be spring Yeah, it might, might as well be spring |
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10. |
| 0:14 | ||||
11. |
| 4:04 | ||||
12. |
| 0:25 | ||||
13. |
| 6:31 | ||||
14. |
| 0:59 | ||||
15. |
| 8:47 | ||||
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice In the church where a wedding has been Lives in a dream Waits at the window, wearing the face That she keeps in a jar by the door Who is it for? All the lonely people Where do they all come from? All the lonely people Where do they all belong? Father McKenzie, writing the words Of a sermon that no one will hear No one comes near Look at him working, darning his socks In the night when there's nobody there What does he care? All the lonely people Where do they all come from? All the lonely people Where do they all belong? Ah, look at all the lonely people Ah, look at all the lonely people Eleanor Rigby, died in the church And was buried along with her name Nobody came Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt From his hands as he walks from the grave No one was saved All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people) Where do they all come from? All the lonely people (Ah, look at all the lonely people) Where do they all belong? |
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16. |
| 0:35 | ||||
17. |
| 5:00 | ||||