
I Cry in Front of Paintings
Paris Paloma
You have a way with words, you say the same of me
Is there a universe in which we didn't meet?
And if I loved you less, then I could talk about it more
Orpheus's turning head before he's finished the long walk
And I do not believe that he was fated to at all
I cry in front of paintings now, but not the ones I thought
They say resistance is so futile, soft the landing, hard the fall
Oh, there you are, my darlin', what kept you down the hall?
I dream of you in starlight, and I choose you in the morn
Rushing through the dust at the beginning of it all
And I less met you
I less met you than found you, mm
Ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah (ah)
Ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah
(Ah) ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah (ah)
Ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah




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