| From time to time I think about him |
| I remember as though it was yesterday |
| Though many years have come between us |
| And he’s probably a million miles away |
| And sometimes in the night I start remembering |
| Those half forgotten words he used to say |
| It’s funny how it all keeps coming back to me |
| But what’s the use pretending that he’d never gone away |
| And halfway through the night I start imagining |
| Those wild and crazy games we used to play |
| The laugh I miss so much |
| The tender loving touch |
| That always seems to end halfway |
| And then I pull myself together |
| And I think why should he matter anyway |
| And so I pick up all the pieces |
| And I try to live my life from day to day |
| Those letters that I always meant to throw away |
| But somehow I could never fine the time |
| The cobwebs I just couldn’t seem to blow away |
| Are little things like mountains I can never seem to climb |
| And halfway through the night |
| I start remembering |
| Those tender words that took my breath away |
| The song was incomplete |
| The wine was bittersweet |
| For lives that couldn’t meet halfway |
| Then halfway through the night I start imagining |
| No matter who was right or who was wrong |
| The feeling that he might not be so very far away |
| Still holds a fascination like an old familiar song |
| And halfway through the night |
| I start remembering |
| That what we had was just a caberet |
| A game of let’s pretend |
| A stranger for a friend |
| A love that had to end halfway |