When the sun is high in the afternoon sky.
You can always find something to do.
But from dusk till dawn, as the clock ticks on.
Something happens to you.
In the wee small hours of the morning.
While the whole wide world is fast asleep.
You lie awake and think about the girl.
And never ever think of counting sheep.
When your lonely heart has learned its lesson.
You'd be hers if only she would call.
In the wee small hours of the morning.
That's the time you miss her most of all.