Thursdays are for soul searching,
Dinners with friends,
Runny nose and clouded eyes,
Thursdays are for sleeping alone.
I don´t want us to move so fast,
I always rush into things,
I don´t even know the meaning of slow,
But I´d like this time to last.
Like in a modern fairytale
I kind of miss you,
But I´m too busy running around
To admit it to myself.
Good night, pretty baby
Search for me with your fingertips
You´ll find my smell in your sheets.