Letra Pre-Raphaelite - Paris Paloma
Ah, ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
She looked like a painting by a Pre-Raphaelite
With red hair cascadin', past her slopin' sad eyes, if
Rossetti could have seen her, how he would have cried, and
He didn't have words like mine
Auburn hair tucked into the neck of her
Father's blue cable-knit fisherman vest, so when
I tuck my locks into the collar of my shirt
From time to time, I think of her
And I'm everything that she isn't, and I would
Make myself in her image if I could
If I didn't know better, if I didn't know more
She sits on velvet in candlelight
Collaterally illuminating all my
Inadequacies, I spent my life building pedestals
And I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
She dances naked, my body, I could never show
She's in a painting and I'm out of it
And I make things, but she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
I once watched as we sat by the stream
Her pluck a pink magnolia straight from the tree
Without a care in the world, that flower, she did eat
So nonchalant, speaking to me
And there was a time I was certain, I was sure
She grew straight from the earth on her pedestal
But here in the dirt, I know her better, I know her more
And I'd be subject to her laughter, if she ever did know
Those things shaped me after into my skin sewn
Even she is a patchwork and how I enjoy the fall
I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
It's in her nature, not any kind of show
She's in a painting, and I'm out of it
And I make things, and she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
Red hair tucked into a blue sweater
Hand-knit pink magnolia petals
And men swear blood oaths for their Helen
But she needs no such defender
Spider writing on her letters
I know her more, I know her better
I know her flaws, and I've known heaven
I know her more, and
I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
That it's in her nature, not any kind of show
She's in a painting, and I'm out of it
And I make things, and she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
She looked like a painting by a Pre-Raphaelite
With red hair cascadin', past her slopin' sad eyes, if
Rossetti could have seen her, how he would have cried, and
He didn't have words like mine
Auburn hair tucked into the neck of her
Father's blue cable-knit fisherman vest, so when
I tuck my locks into the collar of my shirt
From time to time, I think of her
And I'm everything that she isn't, and I would
Make myself in her image if I could
If I didn't know better, if I didn't know more
She sits on velvet in candlelight
Collaterally illuminating all my
Inadequacies, I spent my life building pedestals
And I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
She dances naked, my body, I could never show
She's in a painting and I'm out of it
And I make things, but she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
I once watched as we sat by the stream
Her pluck a pink magnolia straight from the tree
Without a care in the world, that flower, she did eat
So nonchalant, speaking to me
And there was a time I was certain, I was sure
She grew straight from the earth on her pedestal
But here in the dirt, I know her better, I know her more
And I'd be subject to her laughter, if she ever did know
Those things shaped me after into my skin sewn
Even she is a patchwork and how I enjoy the fall
I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
It's in her nature, not any kind of show
She's in a painting, and I'm out of it
And I make things, and she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
Red hair tucked into a blue sweater
Hand-knit pink magnolia petals
And men swear blood oaths for their Helen
But she needs no such defender
Spider writing on her letters
I know her more, I know her better
I know her flaws, and I've known heaven
I know her more, and
I get the feeling that when it's dark, she glows
That it's in her nature, not any kind of show
She's in a painting, and I'm out of it
And I make things, and she's made out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it, out of it
She's made out of it
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