You know the sound of my keys,
trying to find the door.
You know the sound of my feet,
trying to find the floor.
You know how much slow I grow.
You know my quicked heart.
You know just where I am.
You know where I start.
Nightingale.
You know my wearisome world.
Nightingale.
You know my wearisome world.
I know that I have opened your face
in the sleeping morning sun.
I know that I have opened your eyes
when the night has come.
I know the feel of your touch
when I fastly sleep.
I know the love you gave,
you want so much to keep.
Nightingale.
I know your wearisome world.
Nightingale.
I know your wearisome world.
I'm trying to find another word (to tell you I love you)

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