Still, by the window pane,
Pain, like the rain that`s falling.
She waits in the air,
Matte Kudasai.
She sleeps in a chair
In her sad America.
When, when was the night so long,
Long, like the notes I`m sending.
She waits in the air,
Matte Kudasai.
She sleeps in a chair
In her sad America.
