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)

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): JEREMY DAVID TOBACK, REGAN W HAGAR, SHAWN SMITH, STONE C GOSSARD