1776: Yours, Yours, Yours

I live like a nun in a cloister
Solitary, celibate
I hate it

I live like a monk in an abbey
Ditto, ditto, I hate it

Write to me with sentimental effusion
Let me revel in romantic illusion

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?
And is my favorite lover's pillow still firm and fair?

What was there, John
Still is there, John
Come soon as you can to my cloister
I've forgotten the feel of your hand

Soon, Madam, we shall walk in Cupid's grove together
And we'll fondly survey
That promised land
Till then
Till then
I am, as I ever was
And ever shall be
Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours



Credits
Writer(s): Sherman Edwards
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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