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The Little Flower Girl

๐Ÿ‘ค Ian Anderson โ€ข ๐ŸŽผ The Secret Language of Birds โ€ข โฑ๏ธ 3:37
๐ŸŽต 1197 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:37 duration
๐Ÿ†” ID: 3415836

๐Ÿ“œ Lyrics

Down at the church the flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
Painted sister stopped beside. a word upon her saintly lip.
Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip.

I don't know where she might go when she runs home at night.
It's for the best: I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.

I have touched that face a dozen times before. and I have let my pencil run.
Laid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun.
My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.

Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.

I close the door. she is no more until the next appointed hour.
Northeastern light push back the night: painted promises in store.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.

Down at the church my flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
I mean no harm. I mean

โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics

[00:22.40] Down at the church the flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
[00:29.72] I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
[00:37.93] Painted sister stopped beside. a word upon her saintly lip.
[00:44.34] Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip.
[00:52.54] I don't know where she might go when she runs home at night.
[01:00.61] It's for the best: I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light.
[01:07.96] No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
[01:15.38] Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.
[01:29.46] I have touched that face a dozen times before. and I have let my pencil run.
[01:36.79] Laid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun.
[01:44.97] My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
[01:52.25] Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
[01:59.48] I close the door. she is no more until the next appointed hour.
[02:07.64] Northeastern light push back the night: painted promises in store.
[02:14.92] No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
[02:22.22] Just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.
[02:56.28] Down at the church my flower girl sits. legs innocent, apart.
[03:03.57] I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
[03:10.84] My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
[03:18.16] Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
[03:25.45] I mean no harm. I mean
[03:32.34]

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