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It's in a stroke of a brush |
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It's in the wave of a hand |
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And a view so bright |
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It turns the world |
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And makes all right |
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Yet seems to say |
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Come what may |
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You will be what you will |
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With a brush stroke of fate |
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You will have to think again |
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If you touch by it all |
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Lucky to be brushed by it all - |
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Than walk a crooked mile |
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In a worn out smile |
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That you found on the ground |
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Somebody else threw it down |
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Looks like that you're the next bessed in town |
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It's in a verse that you read |
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It's in the tune in your head |
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That makes all light |
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Turns your world |
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Illuminates life |
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And makes you see |
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All the love within |
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Is still yet to come out |
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Like the word - as a bang! |
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You may have to think again |
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And get touched by it all |
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Than walk in single file |
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In a worn out smile |
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That you found on the ground |
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Somebody else threw it down |
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Looks like you're the next blessed in town |
