I've grown accustomed to his face
He almost makes the 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 look
Accustomed to his voice
Accustomed to his face

I've grown accustomed to his face
He almost makes the day begin
I've gotten 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 so easy to forget
He's kind of a habit
You can always break, and yet
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Something in the air
Accustomed to his face ...