Sitting here, sitting there, that’s what lonely cats do;
Sitting here, sitting there, minds flooded with blue.
If only Pussy had room to dream, she wouldn’t be such somber,
If only Tom found something great his life, no longer he will wander.
If only love felt real, not just a fairy tale,
Then we would rejoice greatly, for no longer we will wail.
Sitting here, sitting there, that’s what lonely cats do.
Sitting here, sitting there, will we ever escape the blue?