(Difford/Tilbrook)
|
|
I could smell the rain
|
Dripping through the fresh cut grass
|
I could spell your name
|
On the wet and steamed up glass
|
But you were just a name, a face I had conceived
|
As being beautiful, very beautiful
|
And so hard to believe
|
I could catch the drops
|
As they fell from on the roof
|
I could hardly stop
|
Feeling so long in the tooth
|
Before I had to guess at what you might be
|
And being beautiful, very beautiful
|
Is the face I still see
|
|
Who are you?
|
Imagination painted you
|
Who are you?
|
With its finest brush
|
Who are you?
|
Each stroke with tender love
|
Who are you, who are you, who are you?
|
|
I could see her face
|
Magically there she was
|
My mouth drew a taste
|
So sweet it lingered on
|
And there she was by me, walking through the square
|
And being beautiful, very beautiful
|
At last I found her there
|
|
-----------------
|
Who Are You?
|
Squeeze |