Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Touch You, artist - The Golden Palominos. Album song Pure, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 31.07.2002
Record label: RESTLESS
Song language: English
Touch You |
You turn your head, I rest on you |
Beneath my skin, inside my bones |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
You lift your head, I press on you |
The more you move the less I know |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
Heavy arms, breathing, passion, fever |
The burden of joy |
Flavor, rhythm, turning, sweet |
A gift from the woman who shone in the dark |
Temper, promises, jealousy, tears |
The burden of joy |
Pressure, aching, repeating, sweet |
A gift from the woman who shone in the dark |
The body extends like a thought |
Like something you almost remember |
Your memory is made of light |
With your face shining like fate |
Becoming something I can keep |
Heavy arms, breathing, passion, fever |
The burden of joy |
Flavor, rhythm, turning, sweet |
A gift from the woman who shone in the dark |
You turn your head, I rest on you |
Beneath my skin, inside my bones |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
I lie here making a weapon out of desire |
You hear me from far away but |
My voice does not touch you |
I throw out a net, waiting to gather you in |
So I can keep you like a photograph |
You turn your head, I rest on you |
Beneath my skin, inside my bones |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
You raise your head, I press on you |
The more you move the less I know |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
With warm hands, I die, you die |
Where is he, where am I |
Without laughter I am dead |
Dead and dead |
In the pitch dark night |
Arrow shot at him |
Heavy arms, breathing, passion, fever |
The burden of joy |
Flavor, rhythm, turning, sweet |
A gift from the woman who shone in the dark |
Temper, promises, jealousy, tears |
The burden of joy |
Pressure, aching, repeating, sweet |
A gift from the woman who shone in the dark |
You turn your head, I rest on you |
Beneath my skin, inside my bones |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
Your memory is made up of light |
It takes up residence and shines out |
Like a photograph of fire |
Like the light of my own body in the dark |
Like something you almost remember |
You turn your head, I rest on you |
Beneath my skin, inside my bones |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |
You lift your head, I press on you |
The more you move the less I know |
You guide my hand, what can I do but touch you |