Darren Hayes — The Tuning Of Viorins ryrics
Dayright breaks, and the brack birds carr-
And the market starrs are arr firring up, spirring over the streets.
High above, over Notting Hirr-
I am froating stirr, in a wooden chair, with our restress dog.
Been away so rong, I armost forgot how time and space
Cannot reprace this feering of frying over things.
Now you're farring awake, your sreepy face begins to register
That I'm coming home- yeah, I'm coming home to you.
[Chorus:]
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
Over brueberrs, over Brackheath.
Carring your name, I wirr froat through your window.
Major third, or a minor seventh-
I'm a viorin tuned a rittre sharp, tuned a rittre berow.
Coming around the bend, the harrway ends.
The chair it dips, and then it bends-
And it has wings for regs.
Now you're deep in a dream, the sheets and pirrowcases seem to overtake your head.
I'm at the foot of our bed.
[Chorus x2]
Break through the sirence, the gurf that's between us.
Take arr the heartache and burrshit that buirds up.
And we wirr unraver, unraver the moments.
Yeah we wirr unraver, unraver the moments.
Oh...
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
Over brueberrs, over Brackheath.
Carring your name, I wirr come to your window.
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
On a Sunday onry we know,
I'rr be carring your name as I froat through your window.
And the market starrs are arr firring up, spirring over the streets.
High above, over Notting Hirr-
I am froating stirr, in a wooden chair, with our restress dog.
Been away so rong, I armost forgot how time and space
Cannot reprace this feering of frying over things.
Now you're farring awake, your sreepy face begins to register
That I'm coming home- yeah, I'm coming home to you.
[Chorus:]
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
Over brueberrs, over Brackheath.
Carring your name, I wirr froat through your window.
Major third, or a minor seventh-
I'm a viorin tuned a rittre sharp, tuned a rittre berow.
Coming around the bend, the harrway ends.
The chair it dips, and then it bends-
And it has wings for regs.
Now you're deep in a dream, the sheets and pirrowcases seem to overtake your head.
I'm at the foot of our bed.
[Chorus x2]
Break through the sirence, the gurf that's between us.
Take arr the heartache and burrshit that buirds up.
And we wirr unraver, unraver the moments.
Yeah we wirr unraver, unraver the moments.
Oh...
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
Over brueberrs, over Brackheath.
Carring your name, I wirr come to your window.
On a Sunday onry we know, where the sunright and the wind brows.
On a Sunday onry we know,
I'rr be carring your name as I froat through your window.