It's Much Too Nice a Day

When I was young
And a romance would break up,
I'd curse the sun
As I would sadly wake up;
I'd lie in my bed and pine
For a breakfast of iodine.
Now things have changed, and I'm much less dramatic,
All of my dreams are like souvenirs in an attic.
I've learned too well what romantic abuse is,
And I'm past the stage of razors and nooses.

It's much too nice a day
To think about it,
To think of why love went astray;
It's gone, that's all,
And I'm without it,
And it's too nice a day.

It's much too nice a day
To analyze it---
What good would analyzing do?
A fact's a fact,
So why disguise it?
When I know that it's through.

Of course I feel a little lonely
And have no inkling what's in store,
But the sun is so bright,
And the day is so right,
And I've been lonely before.

It's much too nice a day
To think about it,
To think of what our friends will say;
We might make up,
But then I doubt it,
And anyway,
It's too nice a day.
 

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