Skeletons in the closet*, concrete in the mind,
and way too long alone now.
Eating like a pig, drinking like a hole without a ground.
And neither did I understand you most of the time.
Totally easy, it won't be totally easy.
An optical aberration, a sore throat
and way too anxious with you.
Every gaze a try, every word a ton-weight.
It's been only a few days since the two of us found each other.
Totally easy, it won't be totally easy.
And still, so what?
And still, so what?
And still, so what?
Why conjure something up?
I still remember exactly how both of us were burning with longing.
Totally easy, it doesn't have to be totally easy.
'Cause I know how to tell the time and read time-tables also,
I know how to tousle bed sheets.
And miniature golf teaches me how to lose decently.
And it happened sometimes now that I even understood you.
Totally daft, I'm not totally daft.