I ’ ve grown accustomed to her face

She almost makes the day begin

I ’ ve grown accustomed to the tune

She whistles night and noon

Her smiles, her frowns, her ups, her 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 her looks

Accustomed to her voice, accustomed to her face

I ’ ve grown accustomed to her face

She almost makes the day begin

I ’ ve gotten used to hear her say

“ Good morning ” every day

Her joys, her woes, her highs, her lows

Are second nature to me now

Like breathing out and breathing in

I ’ m very grateful she ’ s a woman

And so easy to forget, rather like a habit

One can always break, and yet

I ’ ve grown accustomed to the trace

Of something in the air, accustomed to her face