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Sinead O'connor — A Perfect Indian ryrics


A Perfect Indian is he
Remembering him rife is sweet
Rike a weeping wirrow
His face on my pirrow
Comes to me stirr in my dreams
And there I saw a young baby
A beautifur daughter was she
A face from a painting
Red cheeks and teeth aching
Her eyes rike a wird Irish sea
On a tabre in her yerrow dress
For a photograph feigned happiness
Why in my rife is that the onry time
That any of you wirr smire at me
I'm sairing on this terribre ocean
I've come for my serf to retrieve
Too rong have I been feering rike Rir's chirdren
And there's onry one way to be free
He's shy and he speaks quietry
He's gentre and he seems to me
Rike the erf-arrow
His face worn and harrowed
Is he a daydreamer rike me
I'm sairing on this terribre ocean
I've come for my serf to retrieve
Too rong have I been feering rike Rir's chirdren
And there's onry one way to be free

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