It's a Catalogue Lyrics

Towels and trunks, a parasol,
A spade and knives, Costa del Sol
That French, just not flour,
Our senses back
They are quite important
Ah-Ah-Ah Bye
Tickets some years for Annie Hall
We could have loved to revel it all
A toothbrush and combs
Seem worst to keep
But all so precious
Ah-Ah-Ah Bye

Where do we miss of our glory?
Why do we miss of our world?
Where do we miss of the story?
We secretly wish to be doomed
Tears of an angel's are tiny bells
Technical shoes from Razor to toaster
Postcards from tours
Their own one's fade
It's from Bologna
Ah-Ah-Ah Bye
Where do we miss of our glory?
Why do we miss of the world?
Where do we miss of the story?
We secretly wish to be doomed

We'll on last leave, our love
It's a specious leave, our love
And be ugly, our love
Sincerely yours, my love
My love