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lyrics

It starts with just a contour, almost abstract in design
A simple gesture of what's still to come.
Skin as white as paper, white as parchment I begin
To shape the bones to make the one I know

And eyes to stare back at me
And scrutinize my hand.
Eyes, the darkest blue, the darkest pigment
I begin to see the eyes that hold the darkest hue.

Hair begins to hold you and frame you on the page,
It flows, creates the outline of your face
Smiling with the faintest little crooked little line
It's a simple gesture from a different time

Your portrait on the table
Your presence in my mind
It's like warm breath upon my shoulder
But the paper, ink and pen are all I'm left to find,
All I'm left to find.

credits

from The Boston Imposters, released January 7, 2020

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The Boston Imposters Boston, Massachusetts

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