You colour me in gold. Lips like petals on my throat. And those fingertips like paintbrush strokes, paper boats softly float like a song we wrote. But summer comes and summer goes. You change your hair, you change your clothes. The books you read help you explore the world that you believed in once before. You colour me in gold. Kiss the freckles on my nose. With those blood red pomegranate lips taking sips, hand on hip. Your face could launch a thousand ships. But winter comes and brings the snow. You change your job, you change your home. Still reading books about the ghost of a world you can't be living anymore. And after all, you've been nothing but good to me. And the only way that I can pay you back is to daily seek those distant memories while I'm standing next to you. So when spring time comes and blossoms grow, come take my hand, can we expose the hideaways, the hidden doors, the stories we believed in. (oohhh oooohh) The land that we both dreamed in once before. (ooooooohhh oooooohhhh oooooohhhhoooohhooo) You colour me in gold.