What I wouldn't give just to listen, my hands in your hands
What I wouldn't just to imagine my face in your hands
What I wouldn't give just to abandon myself to your hands
But it never seems to work itself out like that
Pessimism goes to work
Pessimism works itself (inside)
Inside, when the weather is warm, I am shivering
And all the poets painted lives to live in
For girls with blue eyes lifting curtains up to crowded rooms
Some have it so easy
I can't be like that, so sorry
I can't be like that, so sorry that
Seems it always wants to work itself out like that
Pessimism goes to work
Pessimism pulls one over
What I wouldn't give just to abandon myself to your hands.