(Jimmy Webb)
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How delicate the tracery of her fine lines
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Like the moonlight lacetops of the evening pines
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Like a song half heard through a closed door
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Like an old book when you cannot read the writing anymore
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How innocent her visage as my child lover lies
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Pressed against the rainswept windy windows of my eyes
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Like an antique etching glass design
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That somehow turned out wrong
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I keep looking through old varnish
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At my late lover's body
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Caught on ancient canvas
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And decaying...disappearing
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Even as I sing this song
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How secretly and silently my sorrow disappears
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You can't see it with your eyes or hear it with your ears
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It's like a Watermark that's never there and never really gone
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I keep looking through old varnish
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At my late lover's body
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Caught on ancient canvas
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And decaying...disappearing
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Even as I sing this song
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Even as I sing this song
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Even as I sing this song
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-----------------
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Watermark
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| Art Garfunkel |
