Are we to speak, first day of the week Stumbling words at the bar Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries Long island kindness and wine Beloved of John, I get it all wrong I read you for some kind of poem Covered in lines, the fossils I find Have they no life of their own?
So can we pretend sweetly Before the mystery ends? I am a man with a heart that offends With its lonely and greedy demands There’s only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
Such a waste, your beautiful face Stumbling carpet arise Go follow your gem, your white feathered friend Icarus, point to the sun If history speaks of two baby teeth I’m painting the hills blue and red They said beware, Lord hear my prayer I’ve wasted my throes on your head
So can we be friends, sweetly Before the mystery ends? I love you more than the world can contain In its lonely and ramshackle head There’s only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
I’m holding my breath My tongue on your chest What can be said of my heart? If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek Where there remains but a mark Beloved my John, so I’ll carry on Counting my cards down to one And when I am dead, come visit my bed My fossil is bright in the sun
So can we contend, peacefully Before my history ends? Jesus I need you, be near, come shield me From fossils that fall on my head There’s only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm deadTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
