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...