As I draw my love,
She's as pretty as a dove,
If I could fly,
I would probably die,
Like a sun when it explodes.
It's raining,
Like when I'm painting,
There is a grudge,
If I must.
It isn't right,
It just feels tight.
Tight
As I draw my love,
She's as pretty as a dove,
If I could fly,
I would probably die,
Like a sun when it explodes.
It's raining,
Like when I'm painting,
There is a grudge,
If I must.
It isn't right,
It just feels tight.