in cutiuta cu amintiri

Often I think this sad, old worldIs whistling in the darkJust like a child, who, late from schoolWalks bravely home through the parkTo keep their spirits soaringAnd keep the night at bayNeither quite knowing which way they are goingThey sing the shadows away
Often I think my poor, old heartHas given up for goodAnd then I see a brave new faceI glimpse some new neighborhoodSo walk me back home, my darlingTell me dreams really come trueWhistling, whistling, here in the dark with youWhistling, whistling, here in the dark with you