|
She never looks |
|
And she never listens |
|
Her heart only knows what it feels |
|
And all that she is |
|
And all that she isn't |
|
Her every movement reveals |
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All her bright moods |
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And all her dark tempers |
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She's never the way she appears |
|
She sometimes forgets |
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And sometimes remembers |
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And sometimes must laugh |
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Through the tears |
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Of lavender mornings |
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And gray afternoons |
|
Sad when the day takes its leave |
|
Nights of white passion |
|
And deep shades of blue |
|
These are the |
|
Colors of |
|
EveThe shade on her eye |
|
Like pale purple asters |
|
Runs down her cheek when she cries |
|
And the ways of her heart |
|
No man may master |
|
Even though many will try |
|
The blush on her cheek |
|
The gold on her fingers |
|
Shine when the lady's in love |
|
But a strong gentle touch |
|
And a sunset that lingers |
|
Are the things that her |
|
Dreams are made of |
|
And Lavender mornings |
|
And gray afternoons |
|
Sad when the day takes its leave |
|
Nights of white passion |
|
And deep shades of blue |
|
These are the |
|
Colors of |
|
Eve |
