I lie for days in my bed and have nothing to do,
And after I get up, I catch myself needing to lie down
And I often wonder if I write to you,
And I'm irritated because I'm always lounging...
Now I miss so much, the things I loved about you.
I cry at home against the wall
And outside, silently inside me
And sometimes I think
And sometimes I think
I should to be with you again
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
And then I listen to the comments of my friends
Because, yeah, everyone has right to speak
But actually, I don't want to hear all this
Because this advice troubles me
Now I miss so much, the things I loved about you.
I cry at home against the wall
And outside, silently inside me
And sometimes I think
And sometimes I think
I should to be with you again
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less, much less for me
Not nothing without you,
But less
And since I lie in my bed again and have nothing to do
And you write that you want to hear nothing more from me
And then I think, I've never told you everything,
But after all not nothing