Cole Porter classic.
Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I die a little.
Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little
why the Gods above me, who must be in the know,
think so little of me? They allow you to go.

When you're near, there's such an air of spring about it--
I can hear a lark somewhere begin to sing about it.
There's no love song finer but how strange the change from major to
minor
ev'ry time we say goodbye.

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