i'm lame.
She waltz's on the brushstrokes of a morning,
clear eyes kissing wheat hair kissing the faintest blush
She is the sunlight that the sky is just adorning,
with glory, glory, peals and warm rays of light pour forth
She can't be mine though, she has the innocence of evening,
dead glares along the wall, and perfunctory lust,
Any chance, any hope at all. Stop me from believing.
clear eyes kissing wheat hair kissing the faintest blush
She is the sunlight that the sky is just adorning,
with glory, glory, peals and warm rays of light pour forth
She can't be mine though, she has the innocence of evening,
dead glares along the wall, and perfunctory lust,
Any chance, any hope at all. Stop me from believing.