I could have written a story
|
|
Out of those three words
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|
But as it stands
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|
My organ's pumping notes
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|
To the skill of your smile
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|
All the while I ask for flowers
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To be placed by your cheek
|
|
So the mornin' is sweet
|
|
The pleasure is close
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|
Tick tick tick tick my dear
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Can't you see?
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I could have written a story
|
|
Out of I love you
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|
I could have given
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|
I could have given something new
|
|
But as it stands
|
|
My organ's humpin somethin' old
|
|
And all the while I ask for flowers to be
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|
Placed by your cheek
|
|
So the mornin is sweet...
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|
Somehow
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|
From beginning to end
|
|
Is right here
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|
Holding your hand
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|
And shining your shoes
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|
And pouring the wine
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|
And lately, seems like everything
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|
I'm a slave, I'm a master
|
|
And sometimes my heart, and sometimes my soul
|
|
And sometimes my fingers walk round my eyes
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|
And precious thoughts, and diamond dreams
|
|
Somehow, from beginning to end
|
|
Is right here holding your hand
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|
(Wednesday will come)
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-----------------
|
Those Three Words
|
| Brad |
