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.