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Whenever skies look gray to me |
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And trouble begins to brew, |
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Whenever the Winter winds become too strong, |
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I concentrate on you. |
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When fortune cries "Nay! Nay!" to me |
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And people declare "You're through!", |
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Whenever the blues become my only song, |
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I concentrate on you. |
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On your smile so sweet, so tender, |
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When at first your kiss I decline. |
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On the light in your eyes when I surrender, |
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And once again our arms intertwine |
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And so, when wise men say to me |
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That love's young dream never comes true, |
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To prove that even wise men can be wrong, |
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I concentrate on you. |
