|
|
You're crying, cuz I've spilt your paints
|
again, But in a few short years,
|
You'll understand true life pain
|
When those baby eyes of yours,
|
Have turned the brightest blue,
|
And boys fall into them
|
You just won't know what to do.
|
And I can see you trying.
|
To make him understand,
|
And I can see him ask why
|
He can't be your man.
|
|
Now winter's around us.
|
And your kisses keep me warm again,
|
but when the spring brings the flowers,
|
Will they wash away with the rain?
|
And when the land is wrapped in white,
|
We're as happy as kids could be.
|
I'll let you win every snowball fight,
|
If you'll only stay with me.
|
|
And I can see you trying.
|
To make him understand,
|
And I can see him ask why
|
He can't be your man.
|
|
I see you're leaving,
|
Has March really come so soon?
|
I don't want to pressure you.
|
But can we make a date a week next June?
|
And I never understand.
|
Why you run away
|
Because I know he's waiting for you,
|
Every sunny, cloudless day.
|
|
And I can see you trying.
|
To make him understand,
|
And I can see him ask why
|
He can't be your man.
|
|
And I can see me trying.
|
To make you understand,
|
And I can see me ask why
|
I can't be your man.
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
A Week Next June
|
| White Town |
