36

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.