See her lying in my bed
|
My pillow stuffed beneath her head
|
Her hair is like a sea of gold
|
I'd love to say it her
|
Kiss her lips, they're wet with spit
|
It's more a flavor, taste like wine
|
Sticking something cold inside
|
Those eyes leave goosebumps on my spine
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
See her lying in my bed
|
My pillow stuffed beneath her head
|
Her hair is like a sea of gold
|
I'd love to say it her
|
Kiss her lips, they're wet with spit
|
It's more a flavor, taste like wine
|
Sticking something cold inside
|
Those eyes leave goosebumps on my spine
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
You're very presence turns me dear
|
It takes a hundred thousand colors to paint you
|
And every picture that I paint doesn't capture you
|
|
-----------------
|
Every Picture I Paint
|
| Teenage Fanclub |
