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Laura

de Martin Denny

You know the feeling of something half remembered
Of something that never happened, yet you recall it well.
You know the feeling of recognizing someone
That you've never met as far as you could tell, well.

Laura is the face in the misty light,
Footsteps that you hear down the hall.
The laugh that floats on a summer night
That you can never quite recall.
And you see laura on the train that is passing through.
Those eyes, how familiar they seem.
She gave your very first kiss to you.
That was laura but she's only a dream.

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