| Your lips are nettles
|
| Your tongue is wine
|
| Your laugher’s liquid
|
| But your body’s pine
|
| You love all sailors
|
| But hate the beach
|
| You say «Come touch me»
|
| But you’re always out of reach
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| That only blooms in the violet hour
|
| Your arms are lovely
|
| Yellow and rose
|
| Your back`s a meadow
|
| Covered in snow
|
| Your thighs are thistles
|
| and hot-house grapes
|
| You breathe your sweet breath
|
| And have me wait
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| that only blooms in the violet hour
|
| I turn the lights out
|
| I clean the sheets
|
| You change the station
|
| Turn up the heat
|
| And now you`re sitting
|
| Upon your chair
|
| You`ve got me tangled up Inside a beautiful…
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| that only blooms in the violet hour
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| that only blooms in the violet hour
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| that only blooms in the violet hour
|
| In the dark you tell me of a flower
|
| that only blooms in the violet hour |