Barfuß am Klavier

My English interpretation

Here I am yet once again—sitting barefoot at the piano. It’s the only place that helps me make sense of everything. And every time I find myself here, I’m doing the exact same thing. I dream up love songs, and in the end, they’re all about one thing. They’re all about you.

Because you and I, we sure had something special, didn’t we? People called us crazy, not that I cared. And guess what? I might not know much, but I do know one thing. I was crazy, indeed. I was absolutely crazy. Crazy about you.

When I think back on everything, do you know what I remember best? The mornings at your place. As you lay naked in bed, I’d sit barefoot at the piano. I needed nothing more than to just have you there. Together we were alone. Alone we were together.

And now I find myself back in the very same place—sitting barefoot at the piano. It’s the only place that I can go to make sense of it all. And the songs I play haven’t changed. They’re all about love, and they’re all about you.

That was once upon a time. Back when you and I were “us.” It used to be “we.” I have no idea where you are, but I haven’t gone anywhere.

Somewhere along the way, it all got way too much. You became too much. You just had to know every last thing, and you drove me away. And it’s crazy because in the end, it was actually me who drove you away. And that’s why I find myself back at the piano. But instead of actually falling in love again, I’d rather just sing about the idea of love. But that’s not the truth, is it? Even though what we had was as crazy as it was special, it wasn’t enough. And I wish it was. That’s why I’m sitting barefoot at the piano.

The songs I dream up haven’t changed.

They’re still about you.

About you.