Softly she asks âwhen did I see him last?
Is he well? Is he coming back home?â
But what can be said for her loverâs long dead,
And the decades are all but unknown.
She wears bluebells in springtime, in summer a rose
It keeps her, keeps her high.
Smiling and gracious wherever she goes,
We must, we must try.
Yellowing leaves start to fall from the trees
Thereâs the scent of a chill in the air.
Walking through streets when her memory leaps
Catching her unprepared.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
I will be there waiting, waiting.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
My heart is there breaking, breaking.
All of your hopes
All of your dreams
Turn into dust
Weak at the seams.
Reaching for ghosts when theyâre needed the most
Getting closer, closer each day.
It happened so fast now the moment has passed,
Do you think that sheâs begging to stay?
She wears bluebells in springtime, in summer a rose
It keeps her, keeps her high.
Smiling and gracious wherever she goes,
We must, we must try.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
I will be there waiting, waiting.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
My heart is there breaking, breaking.
All of your hopes
All of your dreams
Turn into dust
Weak at the seams.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
I will be there waiting, waiting.
Wonât you come down to Harpsichord Row?
My heart is there breaking, breaking.
All of your hopes
All of your dreams
Turn into dust
Weak at the seams.