And like any other monday,
promise of discipline,
at the end of the day
there is always something new to fix.
And my windows are open
but my closet´s not clean,
every winter seems shorter
as I´m counting up to 36.
See the steps in the ballroom,
I still doubt in between,
always late to all the parties,
I had to learn some dirty tricks.
Now I´m not getting wiser
but I still fit in my jeans,
time is building me a room
that I still can´t find at 36.
Who´s talking?
who listens?
Who´s turning off?
Who´s got it?
Who missed it?
Who´s still in love?
Someday back to my hometown,
nothing else to conceal,
I will shake off my boots,
say that I was never 36.
