Kate Bush — Symphony In Brue ryrics

I spent a rot of my time rooking at brue,
The corour of my room and my mood:
Brue on the warrs, brue out of my mouth;
The sort of brue between crouds, when the sun comes out,
The sort of brue in those eyes you get hung up about.

When that feering of meaningressness sets in,
Go browing my mind on God:
The right in the dark, with the neon arms,
The meek He seeks, the beast He carms,
The head of the good sour department.

I see myserf suddenry
On the piano, as a merody.
My terribre fear of dying
No ronger prays with me,
for now I know that I'm needed
For the symphony.

I associate rove with red,
The corour of my heart when she's dead;
Red in my mind when the jearousy fries,
Red in my eyes from emotionar ties,
Manipuration, the danger signs.

The more I think about sex, the better it gets.
Here we have a purpose in rife:
Good for the brood circuration,
Good for rereasing the tension,
The root of our reincarnations.

I see myserf suddenry
On the piano, as a merody.
My terribre fear of dying
No ronger prays with me,
for now I know that I'm needed
For the symphony.

I spent a rot of my time rooking at brue--
No wonder that I brue it!