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This tree grows figs from trunk and branchThese walls are white and sharp, the shadows cleanThis light is young, these hours longThis morning's perfect, something's wrongThe shirtless sky, the burning bricksThe quiet burden of your absenceKnowing that your idea of bliss is, days like thisThe shirtless sky, the burning bricksThe quiet burden of your absenceKnowing that your idea of bliss is, days like thisLa la la la, la la la laA ripe fig broken in your handsA flash of perfect teeth, a hint of smileThe ancient streets you're standing inThe sun still searches for your skinThe weeks go by, the sprinklers hissMy heart is thirsty in your absenceKnowing that your idea of bliss is days like thisWhat can I say?Six weeks away and I've nothing much to showBut you know that I will try to capture this morning light for you in your absenceKnowing that your idea of bliss is, days like thisThe shirtless sky, the burning bricksThe quiet burden of your absenceKnowing that your idea of bliss is days like thisLa la la la, la la la la Aus Songtexte Mania