Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning,
waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile.
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness,
and I have to sit down for a while.
The feeling that I’m losing her forever,
and without really entering her world.
I’m glad whenever I can share her laughter,
that funny little girl.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
I try to capture every minute,
the feeling in it.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Do I really see what’s in her mind?
Each time I think I’m close to knowing,
she keeps on growing.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table,
barely awake, I let precious time go by.
Then, when she’s gone, there’s that odd melancholy feeling,
and a sense of guilt I can’t deny.
What happened to the wonderful adventures,
the places I had planned for us to go?
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did, but most we didn’t,
and why, I just don’t know.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
I try to capture every minute,
the feeling in it.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Do I really see what’s in her mind?
Each time I think I’m close to knowing,
she keeps on growing.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture,
and save it from the funny tricks of time.
Slipping through my fingers.
Slipping through my fingers all the time.
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning,
waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile.