Good Grief
"So, what would you little maniacs like to do first?"
Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers
Shut my eyes and count to ten
It goes in one ear out the other, one ear out the other
Burning bright right till the end
Now you'll be missing from the photographs, missing from the photographs
Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers
In my thoughts you're far away
And you are whistling the melody, whistling the melody
Crystallizing clear as day
Oh, I can picture you so easily, picture you so easily ...