I've grown accustomed to his face
He almost makes my day begin
I've grown accustomed to the tune he whistles night and noon
His smiles, his frowns, his ups, his downs

Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in
I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely I could always be that way again and yet
I've grown accustomed to his looks, accustomed to his voice
Accustomed to his face

I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air
Just accustomed to his face