It won't snow at fifteen below

What do you know

That looks like

Winter moving faster this year

Fall disappeared

Leaving me to fend off winter myself

I know where I'd rather be

But no one asked me



There must be a better place

There must be a better way

I can't stand to hear you say

These are the good old days



Cards and letters postmarked from you

And your ocean view

Summer where you are

And I'm not and patently so

Snowshoes are slow

Plus I've got no great desire to

Catch a jet and get there quite yet

With my shoes soaking wet



There must be a better place

There must be a better way

I can't stand to hear you say

These are the good old days



Take me with you, I'm beggin' please

Take me with you before I freeze



I know where it's warmest to be

Undoubtedly

In your arms



It beats hell out of flapping my own

When I'm chilled to the bone



There must be a better place

There must be a better way

God I hate to hear you say

These are the good old days



There must be a better place

There must be a better way

There must be a better

There must be a better

Writer : HOLSAPPLE, PETER
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.