What does the dove see,
There at the window?
A man and woman furious.
That picture on the wall.
A bluebird in a tree.
Something here is not resolved.
Time is a crashing thing.
That's what the old book says.
One day you'll be a saint.
I better make my bid.
I know the ink is dry.
I know they do not lie.
I better make my bid.
You are remembered well,
Putting on your overcoat in June.
Slipping off that old corsage;
It's nothing, really, nothing...
What does the dove see,
There at the window?
Two people fast asleep.
Oh, you were such a clown,
Out on the balcony.
Time is a stupid thing.
That's what you read to me.
Watching the birdies fly,
You whispered, "I could die,"
As I recall; it's really nothing.
Some things are mot resolved.
A picture on a wall.
A bluebird in a tree.
A bluebird in a tree.
You are remembered well,
Putting on your overcoat in June.
Slipping off that old corsage;
It's nothing, really, nothing...
What does the dove see,
There at the window?
These pains are very hard.
There at the window?
A man and woman furious.
That picture on the wall.
A bluebird in a tree.
Something here is not resolved.
Time is a crashing thing.
That's what the old book says.
One day you'll be a saint.
I better make my bid.
I know the ink is dry.
I know they do not lie.
I better make my bid.
You are remembered well,
Putting on your overcoat in June.
Slipping off that old corsage;
It's nothing, really, nothing...
What does the dove see,
There at the window?
Two people fast asleep.
Oh, you were such a clown,
Out on the balcony.
Time is a stupid thing.
That's what you read to me.
Watching the birdies fly,
You whispered, "I could die,"
As I recall; it's really nothing.
Some things are mot resolved.
A picture on a wall.
A bluebird in a tree.
A bluebird in a tree.
You are remembered well,
Putting on your overcoat in June.
Slipping off that old corsage;
It's nothing, really, nothing...
What does the dove see,
There at the window?
These pains are very hard.