you beside me Now who's to guide me Because I'm lost at sea Without your love I'm like a plane without wings A violin with no strings Without your love
though we're underneath the same blue sky If I could paint a picture of this melody It would be a violin without its strings And the canvas in my mind, sings the songs
fails The silver on it's wings And the velvet voices all shall join the singing The cymbals flash, the drums they crash The trumpets rise the song
And dance like elephants as he comes to us Through a fiery golden ring With a violin and a song to sing As he brings for us our wings Now he's one of
We meet and it begins The sound of violins The song of birds high on the wing You taught my heart to sing Why does this heart of mine Feel like a valentine
Taking chances Making love When I'm feeling weak You give me wings When the fire has no heat You light it up again When I hear no violins You play my
idea. [Andy:] mmhmm. Mmhmm. Uhmm. Ok. Uh. Tell...ok...what's the deal with these little songs between the real...you know, the real songs? Like are they
play with a ball And me I turn round Prends ton manteau, prends ton violon Envolons-nous sur une chanson Grab your coat, grab your violin Let's fly away on a song
Calling your name I will float through your window Oh, the song that only we know Where the sunlight and the wind blows Oh, the song that only we know
You look at me and then a song begins Played on a million velvet violins My head goes reelin' and around it spins Fantastic, fantastic that's you, yes
though we're underneath the same blue sky If I could paint a picture of this melody It would be a violin without its strings And the canvas in my mind Sings the songs
(George Cates / Bob Thiele / Mort Green) You look at me and then a song begins Played on a million velvet violins My head goes reelin' and around
smiled So dance with me, dance with me, sing with me can't you see I'm following the rainbow kissed strands of your magic carol Follow your joyful song
idea. Andy: mmhmm. Mmhmm. Uhmm. Ok. Uh. Tell...ok...what?s the deal with these little songs between the real...you know, the real songs? Like are they
devils? No. Winged men? The healing pow'r of love? No. Enchantment? Social justice? No. Dead child actors in a white, white world above? No. Then why are all your songs
things. Night falling away, your sleeping face begins to register That I'm coming home- yeah, I'm coming home to you. Oh the song that only we know,
're underneath the same blue sky If I could paint a picture of this melody It would be a violin without it's strings And the canvas in my mind Sings of songs
