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you're a painting with symbols deep, symphony |
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soft as it shifts from dark beneath |
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a poem that flows, caressing my skin |
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in all of these things you reside and i |
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want you flow from the pen, bow and brush |
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with paper and string, and canvas tight |
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with ink in the air, to dust your light? |
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from morning to the black of night |
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this is my call i belong to you |
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this is my call to sing the melodies of you |
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this is my call i can do nothing else |
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i can do nothing else |
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you're the scent of an unfound bloom |
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a simple tune |
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i only write variations to sooth the mood |
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a drink that will knock me down to the floor |
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a key that will unlock the door |
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where i hear a voice sing familiar themes |
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then beckons me weave notes in between |
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a tap and a string, a bow and a glass |
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you pour me till the day has passed |
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this is my call i belong to you |
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this is my call to sing the melodies of you |
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this is my call i can do nothing else |
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i can do nothing else |
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his is my call i belong to you |
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this is my call to sing the melodies of you |
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this is my call i can do nothing else |
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i can do nothing else |
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his is my call i belong to you |
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this is my call to sing the melodies of you |
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this is my call i can do nothing else |
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i can do nothing else |
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la.. |
