The months go by, And I don't think of you, The signal is frail, An imprint of what you do, So I turn up the sound, And you are nowhere, I have learnt this to my cost. But I maintain, In the slow lane, I maintain, In the slow lane. The scent goes by, Still I smell of you, You say I cry, At the merest thought of you, So you let me down, To laugh at nothing, I have learnt this for myself. But I maintain, In the slow lane, I maintain, In the slow lane. So I turn up the sound, And you are nowhere, I have learnt this to my cost. But I maintain, In the slow lane, I maintain, In the slow lane. Turn down the sound, You are nowhere, You let me down, To laugh at nothing. I have learnt this to my cost, I have learnt this for myself, I have learnt this to my cost, I have learnt this for myself.