| I could have written a story | |
| Out of those three words | |
| But as it stands | |
| My organ's pumping notes | |
| To the skill of your smile | |
| All the while i ask for flowers | |
| To be placed by your cheek | |
| So the mornin' is sweet | |
| The pleasure is close | |
| Tick tick tick tick my dear | |
| Can't you see? | |
| I could have written a story | |
| Out of i love you | |
| I could have given | |
| I could have given something new | |
| But as it stands | |
| My organ's humpin somethin' old | |
| And all the while i ask for flowers to be | |
| Placed by your cheek | |
| So the mornin is sweet... | |
| Somehow | |
| From beginning to end | |
| Is right here | |
| Holding your hand | |
| And shining your shoes | |
| And pouring the wine | |
| And lately, seems like everything | |
| I'm a slave, i'm a master | |
| And sometimes my heart, and sometimes my soul | |
| And sometimes my fingers walk round my eyes | |
| And precious thoughts, and diamond dreams | |
| Somehow, from beginning to end | |
| Is right here holding your hand | |
| (wednesday will come) |
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