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(gram parsons) |
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Brass buttons, green silks and silver shoes |
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Warm evenings, pale mornings, bottled blues |
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And tiny golden pins that she wore up in her hair |
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Brass buttons, green silks and silver shoes |
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My mind was young and then it grew |
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My thoughts known only by a few |
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A dream much too real to be leaned against too long |
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And all the time i guess she knew |
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Her thoughts still dance inside my head |
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Her comb still lies beside the bed |
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But the sun comes up without her, it doesn't know she's gone |
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And it remembers nothing that she said |
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Brass buttons, green silks and silver shoes |
|
Warm evenings, pale mornings, bottled blues |
|
And tiny golden pins that she wore up in her hair |
|
Brass buttons, green silks and silver shoes |
