Woorden: Emiliana Torrini. Fisherman's Woman. Thinking Out Loud.

Like the leaves at my face
He is a victim of gravity
The unbearable color of things
Gets him down

And as his raincoat covers me
We know it was never raining

Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?

I'm sorry, it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
Sorry it was me
Thinking out loud

Like strings in a fan
The shoelaces aren't done
The solitude reflection of his face
Gets him down

And as the shadow covers me
I thought he was only sleeping

Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?

Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
Sorry it was me
Was I thinking out loud?

His clothes on the floor
Under a silver light
The smell of lavender and tar
Brings me down

And if the telephone should ring
God knows it could never be him

I'm sorry, it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
I'm sorry, it was me
Was I thinking out loud?

I'm sorry, it was me
Was I thinking out loud?
I'm sorry, it was me
Thinking out loud