Paul Weller - Black is the color | Текст песни

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• Paul Weller
• Black is the color

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands.
And I love the ground whereon she stands.

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes.
I whish the day it soon would come
When she and I could be as one

I go to the Clyde
and I mourn and weep
For satisfied I never can be
I'll write her a letter,
just a few short lines
And I owe death a thousand times

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like red roses fair
She has the sweetestsmile
and the gentlest hands.
And I love the ground whereon she stands.

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