John K. Samson Velveteen
Flowers, moonlight, sticky things
Songs that mean nothing, places I've been
Blood fruit, crying, old guitar strings
They're all softly poetic, smoothly obscene
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be velveteen
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be
Velveteen
I recall all those wasted snowflakes dying in the fall
And I remember those starry eyes, rose glasses bewitch me, saw that
Our words and our bodies will always flow, like the
Cool, clear stream on the rocks below
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be velveteen
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be
Velveteen
We sat on the beach at night, and it shone fantastic
And the lake after dark looks like, looks like burn plastic
We all need a space to fall down and grow
And it's so sickly-sweet like some bad T.V. show
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be velveteen
When I use the word "You"
I don't know who I mean
If this song was a painting
It would be
Velveteen
Forgot that we used to say
"We all learn to fly some day"
I thought that was nice
But I was wrong