Frank Sinatra

I took a trip on a train
And I thought about you;
I passed a shadowy lane
And I thought about you.
Two or three cars parked under the stars,
A wind-ing stream,
Moon shining down on some little town
And with each beam, the same old dream.
And every stop that we made,
Oh, I thought about you;
But I pulled down the shade
Then I really felt blue.
I peeked through the crack, looked at the track,
The one going back to you,
First Time:
And what did I do? I thought about you.
Last Time:
And what did I do? I thought about you.