| You colour me in gold
|
| Lips like petals on my throat
|
| And those fingertips like paintbrush strokes
|
| Paper boats softly float like a song we wrote
|
| But summer comes and summer goes
|
| You change your hair, you change your clothes
|
| The books you read help you explore
|
| The world that you believed in once before
|
| You colour me in gold
|
| Kiss the freckles on my nose
|
| With those blood red pomegranate lips taking sips, hand on hip
|
| Your face could launch a thousand ships
|
| But winter comes and brings the snow
|
| You change your job, you change your home
|
| Still reading books about the ghost of a world you can’t be living any more
|
| And after all, you’ve been nothing but good to me
|
| And the only way that I can pay you back
|
| Is to daily seek those distant memories while I’m standing next to you
|
| So when spring time comes and blossoms grow
|
| Come take my hand, can we expose the hideaways
|
| The hidden doors, the stories we believed in
|
| The land that we both dreamed in once before
|
| You colour me in gold |