Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oh, my, my, my, oh, my, my, my.

Went down to the station to look for her there,
Looked through the crowds for a glimpse of her hair,
Nothing to see but the crowds keep a-staring
At me, my, my, my, oh, my, my, my.

Down in the street tryin'to remember,
Shuffling my feet outside a men's wear,
Is that her in the fur coat? No, it's not December,
Yet, my, my, my, oh, my, my, my.

Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.

Down to the house, maybe she'll phone me,
Singing my song, feeling so lonely,
I'll sing very softly, so if the phone rings
I can hear it, I can hear it.

Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oh, my, my, my, oh, my, my, my.

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): IAN ANDERSON