Two Of Us

Two of us riding nowhere, spending someone's heart in pain.

You and me Sunday driving, not arriving, on our way back home.

We're on our way home.

We're on our way home.

We're going home

Two of us sending postcards

Writing letters on my wall

You and me burning matches

Lifting latches

On our way back home

We're on our way home

We're on our way home, we're going home

You and I have memories longer than

The road that stretches out ahead

Two of us wearing raincoats, standing solo in the sun

You and me chasing paper, getting nowhere, on our way back home

We're on our way home, we're on our way home, we're going home

You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead

Two of us wearing raincoats, standing solo in the sun

You and me chasing paper, getting nowhere, on our way back home.

We're on our way home, we're on our way home, we're going home.

You better believe it!

I can't see George. I think he's gone, you know.

I don't know, Paul. I don't know, John, either.

Ringo! Ringo! Are you really playing the drums here?

What do you mean?

Paul!

I think that George has left the Beatles now, you know.

He wasn't here yesterday, either.