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ivan@stellysee.de
| From | Benjamin Lukoff <blukoff@alvord.com> |
| Subject | =?US-ASCII?B?UkU6IFJlOiBzYXlvbmFyYQ==?= |
| Date | Mon, 29 Jan 2007 10:14:49 -0800 (PST) |
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On Mon, 29 Jan 2007 rob@splitsville.com wrote:
> "Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago
> > Na, na, na, na, na na.
> Na, na, na, na, na na.
> Picture book"
> Maybe that'll help
People take pictures of the Summer,
Just in case someone thought they had missed it,
And to proved that it really existed.
Fathers take pictures of the mothers,
And the sisters take pictures of brothers,
Just to show that they love one another.
You can't picture love that you took from me,
When we were young and the world was free.
Pictures of things as they used to be,
Don't show me no more, please.
People take pictures of each other,
Just to prove that they really existed,
Just to prove that they really existed.
People take pictures of each other,
And the moment to last them for ever,
Of the time when they mattered to someone.
People take pictures of the Summer,
Just in case someone thought they had missed it,
Just to proved that it really existed.
People take pictures of each other,
And the moment to last them for ever,
Of the time when they mattered to someone.
Picture of me when I was just three,
Sucking my thumb by the old oak tree.
Oh how I love things as they used to be,
Don't show me no more, please.
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