(B. Andersson / B. Ulvaeus)

 

I must have left my house at eight
because I always do
My train, I’m certain
left the station just when it was due
I must have read the morning paper
going into town
And having gotten through the editorial
no doubt I must have frowned
I must have made my desk
around a quarter after nine
with letters to be read
and heaps of papers waiting to be signed
I must have gone to lunch
at half past twelve or so -
the usual place, the usual bunch
And still on top of this
I’m pretty sure it must have rained
the day before you came

I must have lit my seventh
cigarette at half past two
And at the time I never
even noticed I was blue
I must have kept on dragging
through the business of the day
Without really knowing anything
I hid a part of me away
At five I must have left -
there’s no exception to the rule -
a matter of routine,
I’ve done it ever since I finished school
The train back home again,
undoubtedly I must have
read the evening paper then
Oh yes, I’m sure my life was
well within its usual frame
the day before you came

I must have opened my front door
at eight o’clock or so
and stopped along the way
to buy some Chinese food to go
I’m sure I had my dinner
watching something on TV
There’s not, I think, a single
episode of Dallas that I didn’t see
I must have gone to bed
around a quarter after ten
I need a lot of sleep and so
I like to be in bed by then
I must have read a while
the latest one by Marilyn French
or something in that style
It’s funny, but I had no sense
of living without aim
the day before you came

And turning out the light
I must have yawned and
cuddled up for yet another night
And rattling on the roof
I must have heard the sound of rain
the day before you came