Whenever I think of red wool,
It will always remind me of Rachel.
Of wool jackets and corduroy.
Of skin that's fair, and an air-soft laugh
That floats on dry sarcasm.
It will remind me.
All is not lost.
There are girls in this world that hold a key.
Hiding behind long legs and long blonde hair
That's almost brown.
Every key has a lock to open.
And that lock's always holding something back
Until someone comes to turn it.
Like a flood gate set free
To find a soul at ease.
It will remind me.
Of rainy days at the Pompidou at a whim's end.
At an antiques fair sur la Rue Clare.
The yellowed postcards and old corkscrews.
Of lazy spliffs and a crisp Autumn air,
It will remind me.
There's not enough time.
There's too many things I didn't do.
There's girls in this world that can save me.
But there's only a few.
And they like to dance.
