| I didn’t notice anything strange
|
| About the picture in your picture frame
|
| It was drawn of a fountain in your Paris
|
| Bought for a fiver most probably
|
| Didn’t mean a lot to me, a lot to me
|
| You tell me that you’d never sell this
|
| That the artist himself was beneath this
|
| That life itself was within this
|
| And I look to the sky to worship the ground
|
| And you never asked for nothing at all
|
| Even as the wolves clawed at your door
|
| And you do your best to fold me
|
| And unfold me again
|
| Time will make fools of us all
|
| It’s time to find meaning or control
|
| Every time we go out now you pretend
|
| Pretend we’re not lovers just friends
|
| And it gets to me, gets to me
|
| You tell me the meaning of life is
|
| To be happy and to give up loss
|
| But you never lost something you loved
|
| But I turn around, how could I be angry at you?
|
| When you never asked for nothing at all
|
| Even as the wolves clawed at your door
|
| And you do your best to fold me
|
| And unfold me again
|
| Never fold me again
|
| And it gets to me, gets to me
|
| Tell me the meaning of life is
|
| To be happy and to give up loss
|
| You never lost something you loved
|
| And I turn around, how could I be angry at you?
|
| When you never asked for nothing at all
|
| But you asked me to come in from the cold
|
| And to warm your bed as you fold me
|
| And unfold me again
|
| And you never asked for nothing at all |