persistent memories
The flicker of the light
Bulb that hangs over her head
Picks out the small
Lines shrouding her face
The bulb that hangs over her head
It dangles so precariously
Lines shrouding her face
Wake you to the beauty of her voice
It dangles so precariously
Like the last thread of a dream
Waking you to the beauty of her voice
As you heard it that morning
Like the last thread of a dream
The one that you never remember
As you heard it that morning
That morning was so long ago
The ones that you never remember
Take the shape of dreams
That morning was so long ago
You will not remember anymore
Take the shape of dreams
And run your fingers through her hair
You will not remember anymore
When you have not seen her for a year
And run your fingers through her hair
For when you are sitting in a dingy bar
When you have not seen her for a year
Strange women will remind you of her
For sitting in a dingy bar
Blinded by smoke and scotch
Strange women will remind you of her
And you will not know why
Blinded by smoke and scotch
You will pick out small
Strange women who remind you of her
Under the flickering light
Bulb that hangs over her head
Picks out the small
Lines shrouding her face
The bulb that hangs over her head
It dangles so precariously
Lines shrouding her face
Wake you to the beauty of her voice
It dangles so precariously
Like the last thread of a dream
Waking you to the beauty of her voice
As you heard it that morning
Like the last thread of a dream
The one that you never remember
As you heard it that morning
That morning was so long ago
The ones that you never remember
Take the shape of dreams
That morning was so long ago
You will not remember anymore
Take the shape of dreams
And run your fingers through her hair
You will not remember anymore
When you have not seen her for a year
And run your fingers through her hair
For when you are sitting in a dingy bar
When you have not seen her for a year
Strange women will remind you of her
For sitting in a dingy bar
Blinded by smoke and scotch
Strange women will remind you of her
And you will not know why
Blinded by smoke and scotch
You will pick out small
Strange women who remind you of her
Under the flickering light
2 Comments:
Wonder who she could be...
no, don't
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