You're beautiful, almost,
A lost and sad reflection
Of another's ghost.
A shadow of a shadow,
That's been haunting me the most,
So close, so close.
You're wonderful, nearly,
Not quite a picture postcard,
Of the way that it should be.
A whisper, of a rumour,
Of a dying melody,
Perfect, but not really.
Red are the roses, no doubt,
At least until we throw them out,
And violets I can do without,
Regardless of their hue.
Though such things have their place
I know it's true,
But a pillow over the face,
Maybe that's a kind of love too.
You're wonderful, nearly,
Not quite a picture postcard,
Of the way that it it should be.
A whisper, of a rumour,
Of a dying melody,
Perfect, but not really.
You're beautiful, almost,
A lost and sad reflection,
Of another's ghost.
A shadow, of a shadow,
That's been haunting me the most,
So close, so close.
Beautiful, almost...