Score, open the door, I see you again, and feel better. You smile, I’m reconciled, and you sing along, and I’m better. Hug, feel me unplug, the week seems to be, a little better. Sit, story befits, the wind tells a tale, and we’re better. Seems that life, grows lemons, every single picking day? But five with mine, makes lemonade. Revive, pizza arrives, and we swap a slice, it tastes better. Slouch, entwined on the couch, my life it seems, is just better. Seems that life, grows lemons, every picking single day? But five with mine, makes lemonade Seems that life, grows lemons, every single picking day? But five with mine, makes lemonade But five with mine, makes lemonade
Lyrics by John Berry