Miranda has a seat by the window
far below she sees the clouds go by
in her pocket she has a number
faint in pencil she closes her eyes

She thinks about the way it came to be there
it was noone else but hers
yeah noone elses to share

Miranda's crying so silly now

She dreams about a moonfilled evening
full of vodkas and heavy breathing
lying on the floor now smudged and crumpled
lying lonely on a plane to London
she breathes again now ever softly
whispering lovelies from under her hair

And what she really meant she never said
woolen sweater was getting wet
Miranda's crying so silly now
but she can't help it
the dream is haunting her

Miranda wrote a letter trying to explain
the reasons why she left in the rain
said she'd be back, but she never
she said she'd be back, London in winter
oh maybe he'd be there to welcome her home

And what she really meant she never said
woolen sweater was getting wet
Miranda's crying so silly now
but she can't help it the dream is haunting her

And now the airport's approaching
The grey of London is always waiting
She learned her lesson the hard way this time
Never write your thoughts out for everyone to see
keep them all to yourself

And what she really meant she never said
woolen sweater was getting wet
Miranda's crying so silly now
but she can't help it the dream is haunting her (2 times)

Maybe he'll be there, could he be there, maybe he'll be there could he be there (This is a round by Debra and Juliette, alternating phrases)