Today is just another day, tomorrow is a guess;
But yesterday, oh, what I'd give for yesterday,
To relive one yesterday and its happiness
Melody
When Joanna loved me,
Every town was Paris,
Every day was Sunday,
Every month was May;
When Joanna loved me,
Every sound was music,
Music made of laughter,
Laughter bright and gay.
But when Joanna left me,
May became December;
But, even in December, I remember
Her touch, her smile, and for a little while.
She loves me,
And once again it's Paris,
Paris on a Sunday,
And the month is May.