Paint Your Picture
Pictures on my wall,
Fifteen different colours,
Starting with vermillion-
The first flower of the summer,
And don't think I'll be finished
Till I've begun to understand this,
With you stretched out in the sunlight,
As your laughter fills my canvas
The sun falls in my fingers,
On your back against the blinds,
It's tracing out your hollows
It is filling in your lines,
There your curl finds your spiral
As you silhouette the window,
When my brush forgives itself
Spills lines upon your pillow,
Finds you standing in the middle
Of the lines you've laid down before
Try to trace my picture into yours
Let me paint you in the corner,
As your shoulders trap the light
See the sunset feeling golden
On the wineskins of the night
I have seen your eyes in paintings
As Cathedrals cried Hosanna
Let me paint your face in frescos
Hang your hair like Angelabra
See you standing in the middle
Of lines you laid down before,
Try to paint my picture into yours
In the morning let me find you
As I call to you by name,
Your body warm beside me
Not imprisoned in a frame
I could never find the colours
Or the light that finely paints you
With those roses in your hair
Smell of wine, immortal perfume
As you're standing in the middle
Of lines you laid down before
Tryin' to paint my picture into yours
Похожие новости.
Окуляри
Останні чари загубила мої А магазині я придбаю нові Ти в них така популярна Орієнтири крізь завішане скло Як чай без цукру і без фільму кіно Все у рожевому малюєш сні Пустими будуть всі історії ті Якими
Зачем
Ситцевым полем перетекала путь река, Следов глубоких ран не оставляя В водоворот лаковых рук брала меня, Ласкала, тело мне не отпуская. Я видел сны, я помню все их имена. Я слышал трав прерывистые речи. Вдыхал я
Let There Be Rock
In the beginning Back in nineteen fifty-five Man didn't know about a rock 'n' roll show And all that jive The white man had the schmaltz The black man had the blues No one knew what
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby, Can't buy a thrill. I've been up all night, baby, Leanin' on the window sill. If I die On top of the hill And if I don't make it, You
FAQ
Приспів: Факью, це мій айкью Факью, все що свідомість отримала Одні запитання й не одної відповіді від тебе факью (весь куплет - 2) Чому я не маю можливості жити по-іншому? Чому я вже звик до
