You know the feeling
Of something half remembered,
Of something that never happened,
Yet you recall it well.

You know the feeling
Of recognizing someone
That you've never met
As far as you could tell.

Well:
Laura
Is the face in the misty light,
Footsteps that you hear down the hall,
The laugh that floats on a summer night
That you can never quite recall.

And you see Laura
On a train that is passing through,
Those eyes, how familiar they seem;
She gave your very first kiss to you,
That was Laura
But she's only a dream.

And you see Laura
On a train that is passing through,
Those eyes, how familiar they seem;
She gave your very first kiss to you,
That was Laura
But she's only a dream.