I've grown accustomed to his face
He almost makes the day begin
I've grown accustomed to the tune
That 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 got used to hear him say "good morning", every day
His joys, his woes, his highs, his lows
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in
I'm very grateful he's a man and he's so easy to forget
Rather like a habit you can always break

And yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air
Accustomed to, to his face
Accustomed to his face
His face, his face
His face