I get up at middle of night
And start thinking of you.
You may not believe me,
But that's what I do.
I can never stop loving you - that's the problem!
Not in Summer, not in Winter,
The curtain in my room is pale yellow,
With golden leaves on it,
My mother lived in this room for a little while,
And left a little bit of her.
Not sure when I started loving you.
Was it when we got up at dawn