Drive Home (Demo)

Sunday afternoon I thought I caught a glimpse of you And felt the urge to turn away I've heard all you've had to say So in spite of you I painted all your roses blue I hope it brings a tear to your pale face And trickles down in spades Not like this Beatrice Lapis lazuli I heard you counting down from three And jumped the gun to hide my face And race towards an early grave So in different views when You were me and I was you We held on to the vibrant days But, now they've turned to grey Not like this Beatrice