| Doesn't it seem strange | |
| that even when your mind says so | |
| your hair hearts says \"no, | |
| just wait and see how it feels | |
| to fall in love with something real\" | |
| mysteries of life | |
| speak the mettaphysical, | |
| a world so full of life | |
| oh Christ, it must be You! | |
| the melody it leads me to | |
| **something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear… | |
| call it theory but i want to call it life math | |
| call it melody but i call that my soul's path | |
| call ‘em chords and let ‘em pluck the heart strings | |
| call ‘em instruments but they're with what the heart sings | |
| the semiotics and semantics of a man's life | |
| through the language of harmony, the soul's knife | |
| dividing moments in the memory, the many scenes | |
| and i embrace the deepest part of me, bittersweet | |
| the boom bap beat or maybe how the horns play | |
| the soft touch of keys put some color in my grey | |
| take me to a place of mine, there's the real me | |
| no mask, just the mirror called the music, see | |
| call me overly romantic or religious | |
| i feel impressions of the Maker in the rhythms | |
| and many times i feel my words amount to nothing | |
| but in a song, there is something | |
| something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear. |
| Doesn' t it seem strange | |
| that even when your mind says so | |
| your hair hearts says " no, | |
| just wait and see how it feels | |
| to fall in love with something real" | |
| mysteries of life | |
| speak the mettaphysical, | |
| a world so full of life | |
| oh Christ, it must be You! | |
| the melody it leads me to | |
| something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear | |
| call it theory but i want to call it life math | |
| call it melody but i call that my soul' s path | |
| call ' em chords and let ' em pluck the heart strings | |
| call ' em instruments but they' re with what the heart sings | |
| the semiotics and semantics of a man' s life | |
| through the language of harmony, the soul' s knife | |
| dividing moments in the memory, the many scenes | |
| and i embrace the deepest part of me, bittersweet | |
| the boom bap beat or maybe how the horns play | |
| the soft touch of keys put some color in my grey | |
| take me to a place of mine, there' s the real me | |
| no mask, just the mirror called the music, see | |
| call me overly romantic or religious | |
| i feel impressions of the Maker in the rhythms | |
| and many times i feel my words amount to nothing | |
| but in a song, there is something | |
| something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear. |
| Doesn' t it seem strange | |
| that even when your mind says so | |
| your hair hearts says " no, | |
| just wait and see how it feels | |
| to fall in love with something real" | |
| mysteries of life | |
| speak the mettaphysical, | |
| a world so full of life | |
| oh Christ, it must be You! | |
| the melody it leads me to | |
| something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear | |
| call it theory but i want to call it life math | |
| call it melody but i call that my soul' s path | |
| call ' em chords and let ' em pluck the heart strings | |
| call ' em instruments but they' re with what the heart sings | |
| the semiotics and semantics of a man' s life | |
| through the language of harmony, the soul' s knife | |
| dividing moments in the memory, the many scenes | |
| and i embrace the deepest part of me, bittersweet | |
| the boom bap beat or maybe how the horns play | |
| the soft touch of keys put some color in my grey | |
| take me to a place of mine, there' s the real me | |
| no mask, just the mirror called the music, see | |
| call me overly romantic or religious | |
| i feel impressions of the Maker in the rhythms | |
| and many times i feel my words amount to nothing | |
| but in a song, there is something | |
| something divine | |
| in the perfect harmony | |
| with a lovely melody | |
| crafted with care | |
| and it leads me to hear. |
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