Sixpence None The Richer

you´re a painting with symbols deep, symphony
soft as it shifts from dark beneath
a poem that flows, caressing my skin
in all of these things you reside and I
want you flow from the pen, bow and brush
with paper and string, and canvas tight
with ink in the air, to dust your light?

this is my call I belong to You
this is my call to sing the melodies of You
this is my call I can do nothing else
I can do nothimg else

you´re the scent of an unfound bloom a simple tune
I only write variations to sooth the mood
a drink that will knock me down to the floor
a key that will unlock the door
where I hear a voice sing familiar themes
then beckons me weave notes in between
a tap and a string, a bow and a glass
you pour me till the day has passed...

this is my call I belong to You
this is my call to sing the melodies of You
this is my call I can do nothing else
I can do nothimg else