XIX. This is my call, to sing the melodies of you...

You're a painting with symbols deep,

a symphony, soft as it shifts from dark beneath

A poem that flows, caressing my skin

In all of these things you reside and

I want to flow from the pen, bow, and brush,

then paper, string, and canvas touch

with ink and the air to dust your light

from morning 'til the black of night

This is my call, I belong to you

This is my call, to sing the melodies of you

This is my call, I can do nothing else

I can do nothing else

You're the scent of an unfound bloom

A simple tune, I only write variation to

A drink that will knock me down on the floor

A key that will unlock the door

Where I hear a voice sing familiar themes

Then beckons me weave notes in between

A bow and a string, a tap and a glass

You pour me, 'til the day has passed

This is my call, I belong to you

This is my call, to sing the melodies of you

This is my call, I can do nothing else

I can do nothing else

Melody of You

Sixpence Non The Richer