My Wife and My Dead Wife

I was riding a bicycle ono the channel islands and sark, place where there's no, no cars, and they rent bikes. Just the title popped into my head, my wife and my dead wife. A year later, i went to a cafe in north london with my notebook, and i wrote the words down. Then i took it home, put a tune to it, and then i took it to the guise. And them dead wife sindro, i certainly have it. My wife sits downsastairsthe an, i'm driling. Hoan, i turn round, and my da ta she still d she talks out loud. Noes, i m