Paint The Red Rose Blue
He was the youngest of five
And the only son
He called his wife by a nickname
As his father had done
Not the root, not the branch
Not the flower or stem
He has the wildest of dreams
But he rarely remembers them
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What was he to do, but turn the red rose?
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What was he to do, but turn the red rose?
The words that came to him
Both the lies and the threats
They arrived all too easily
But they ran up some debts
From the thunder of the pulpit
To the whispers of a lover
'Til they found that he couldn't tell one from the other
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What are we to do but turn the red rose?
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What are we to do but turn the red rose?
He haunted the shadows and waited until
They had secrets to sell him and some practical skill
Theatrical blood is convenient to spill
He turned on the light switch and watched her undress
Oh, you'd never guess what came next, unless
He said, "All of these hours that I've sulked in the shade
The Sun never struck me or made me afraid"
Now she and I share unspeakable pain
I have to believe in something, if anything
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
There's nothing left to do, but paint the red rose
Paint the red rose, turn the red rose blue
There's nothing left to do, but paint the red rose
Blue
And the only son
He called his wife by a nickname
As his father had done
Not the root, not the branch
Not the flower or stem
He has the wildest of dreams
But he rarely remembers them
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What was he to do, but turn the red rose?
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What was he to do, but turn the red rose?
The words that came to him
Both the lies and the threats
They arrived all too easily
But they ran up some debts
From the thunder of the pulpit
To the whispers of a lover
'Til they found that he couldn't tell one from the other
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What are we to do but turn the red rose?
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
What are we to do but turn the red rose?
He haunted the shadows and waited until
They had secrets to sell him and some practical skill
Theatrical blood is convenient to spill
He turned on the light switch and watched her undress
Oh, you'd never guess what came next, unless
He said, "All of these hours that I've sulked in the shade
The Sun never struck me or made me afraid"
Now she and I share unspeakable pain
I have to believe in something, if anything
Turn the red rose, paint the red rose blue
There's nothing left to do, but paint the red rose
Paint the red rose, turn the red rose blue
There's nothing left to do, but paint the red rose
Blue
Credits
Writer(s): Elvis Costello
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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