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When Joanna loved me
Every town was Paris
And every day was Sunday
Every month was May
When Joanna loved me
Every sound was music
It was music made of laughter
Laughter that was bright and gay
But when Joanna left me
May became December
But even in December, I remember
Her touch, her smile
And for a little while she loves me
And once again it's Paris
Paris is on Sunday
And the month is May
And the month is May
