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I've grown accustomed to his face he almost makes the day begin I've grown accustomed to the tune that he whistles night and noon his smiles, his frowns his ups, his downs are second nature to me now like breathing out and breathing in I was serenely independent and content before we met surely I could always be that way again and yet, I've grown accustomed to his look accustomed to his voice accustomed to his face I've grown accustomed to his face he almost makes the day begin "good morning," every day his joys, his woes his highs, his lows are second nature to me now like breathing out and breathing in I'm very grateful he's a man and so easy to forget rather like a habit one can always break and yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air accustomed to his face... |
