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.