Sitting on a windowsill
Waiting for you to call my name
Hard to find the joy in the small things
But you seem to like it when I say I love you
Too much of the TV set
Yearning for that familiar voice
I know I sing out of tune
I know it had to be you
Couldn't be another
Giving a hundred and ten percent
Clinging to the edge of my rope
Could I give myself hope
