The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
The Pretty Things
Growing in my mind
Is the picture of a face
Someone that I've known
Then lost without a trace
Could she be the one
That stares at me from my dreams
Or could she be the creator
Of all of my schemes
My scheme
Morning has it's magic
As it slides in through my frame
With the first sign of dawn
This picture leaves my brain
I search the streets of morning
But I never find a trace
Then growing in my mind
Is the picture of a face
A face
A face
A face
A face
A face
A face
A face