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.