Black Is the Colour
Damien Rice
Black is the colour 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 go the Clyde and I mourn and weep
Shiny I can never be
Black is the colour 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
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
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