Quality is an intangible phantom, A taunting illusion we chase into the altitude
Like a string of a black paper doll cutouts, Emerging silhouettes illuminate the night
Why do I fear the wicked wrath of winter, The way a child's finger dreads a splinter?
I lost my love to the quarry, Plunged deep into a cold abyss.
When we first met, I noticed your feet And how they never touch the Earth;
Renaissance man, you are a master of your craft. A luthier of violins and cellos,
Beneath city lights Looking for love at midnight,
I hold my breath so I can breathe And take a pause for myself and inner breath.
Quality is an intangible phantom, A taunting illusion we chase into the altitude
Like a string of a black paper doll cutouts, Emerging silhouettes illuminate the night
Why do I fear the wicked wrath of winter, The way a child's finger dreads a splinter?
I lost my love to the quarry, Plunged deep into a cold abyss.
When we first met, I noticed your feet And how they never touch the Earth;
Renaissance man, you are a master of your craft. A luthier of violins and cellos,
Beneath city lights Looking for love at midnight,
I hold my breath so I can breathe And take a pause for myself and inner breath.