Bic Runga

Counting the days on the calendar
Strange how they bleed into each other
All that I need
Is a day with you
Pencil me in on your Saturday
Taking my leave
Should I be waylaid please wait for me
On a day with you
Maybe for now an hour will do
Remember my dear this time last year
The sunsets were late and the days were long
And the nights were filled with song
The nights were filled with song