Lyrics to John My Beloved (iPhone Demo)
Are we to speak, first day of the week
Stumbling words at the bar
Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries
Long island kindness and wine
Beloved of John, I get it all wrong
I read you for some kind of stone
Covered in lines, the fossils I find
Have they no life of their own?
So can we pretend sweetly
Before the mystery ends?
I am a man with a heart that offends
With its lonely and greedy demands
There's only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
Such a waste, your beautiful face
Slumbering carpet arise
But you and your ring, your life-giving string
Come to me now as a friend
If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek
I'm painting the hills blue and red
They said beware, Lord hear my prayer
Anointing my love on your head
So can we be friends sweetly
Before the mystery ends?
I love you more than the world can contain
In its loneliest ramshackle head
There's only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
I'm holding my breath
My signature death
What can be said of my heart?
If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek
Where there remains but a mark
Beloved my John, so I'll carry on
Counting my cards down to one
And when I am dead, return to the bed
My fossil is bright in the sun
Stumbling words at the bar
Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries
Long island kindness and wine
Beloved of John, I get it all wrong
I read you for some kind of stone
Covered in lines, the fossils I find
Have they no life of their own?
So can we pretend sweetly
Before the mystery ends?
I am a man with a heart that offends
With its lonely and greedy demands
There's only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
Such a waste, your beautiful face
Slumbering carpet arise
But you and your ring, your life-giving string
Come to me now as a friend
If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek
I'm painting the hills blue and red
They said beware, Lord hear my prayer
Anointing my love on your head
So can we be friends sweetly
Before the mystery ends?
I love you more than the world can contain
In its loneliest ramshackle head
There's only a shadow of me; in a manner of speaking I'm dead
I'm holding my breath
My signature death
What can be said of my heart?
If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek
Where there remains but a mark
Beloved my John, so I'll carry on
Counting my cards down to one
And when I am dead, return to the bed
My fossil is bright in the sun
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