Clouds float, birds sway, a band plays Georgia Brown On a blanket in Harold Park with you Groups of laughing children, balls & kites & hoops Mothers watch, couples stroll two by two

Talk about the movies. She played that part so well I really thought the setting was done well Reminds me of a place sort of like this On a day like our Neverending Sunday

Small café, patio, sitting in the sun Talking ‘bout nothing, trying to make her smile Beige umbrella in the sun, picture of a saint I wonder if this ever goes out of style?

Old men playing chess, young men standing ‘round Bragging tough and watching girls go by Somewhere far away, where I couldn’t say Felt like our Neverending Sunday

Blues licks E - A

Pick guitar, soft and low St Louis Blues I hate to see that evening sun go down Curl up on the couch with a John Brownlow book Pack my trunk for a mental get-a-way

She’s sewing in the kitchen, listen to the song Marking time with every stitch she lays Reminds me of a time, not so long ago On a day like our Neverending Sunday