歌词
Too often moved
Too forgiving
Could never be accused
Of not ever showing willing
But this is no place for a heart
Its colours overspilling
Pack them all up with the stars
And the dying art of living
Life sits here getting shorter
As my paintbrush sits in water
The ancient sunken shipwreck
Of some used to be explorer
And lifeless is the water
In which the paintbrush steeps
In its snow globe of a jam jar
In to which each colour leaks
In to a watercolour sky
On a watercolour night
I cry watercolour tears
From my watercolour eye
Lying in the still
My colours weep as willows
Greyish green and pale blue
Down my cheek and paint my pillow
Would you look at the
Pounce ready energy
Of that cat amongst the tall grass?
All tail and arse
Head down back arched
It teases to the last
And seizing its moment
It looks up from its dance to ask
Where is the orange
Flame in my eye?
That lightning yellow
It's brilliant surprise?
Oh starry starry night
Where are you taking all the light?
Now look me in my
Watercolour eye and tell me
Did you really fight it?
I mean did you really try?
I grieve
Chasing falling leaves
Saying what you really mean and
And other dying breeds
And how can I keep
This colour in my cheeks
When nobody bleeds
As deep a red as me?
Too often moved
Too forgiving
Could never be accused
Of not ever showing willing
But this is no place for a heart
Its colours overspilling
Pack them all up with the stars
And the dying art of living