Dirty Monkey
Music makes pictures and often tells stories
All of it magic and all of it true
And all of the pictures and all of the stories
All of the magic, the music is you
Music makes pictures and often tells stories
All of it magic and all of it true
And all of the pictures and all of the stories
And all of the magic, the music is you
Words and music by John Denver
Cinnamon
Careful in the kitchen
Says the man in red
He knows exactly where to hang his head
Someones in the bedroom
Playing with the lamp
Love is like her hair beneath the curtain soiled and damp
Isn't she so beautiful
In her baby blues
I'll be over when I know
That she's all over you
I can hear the ticking
Of the cuckoo clock
I can see you hiding in the shadow of her locks
She don't really love you
She don't understand
What she's got between the precious creases of her hands
Life becomes the poet
Messing with her words
In the margin soft and blurred
Time is my complexion
Love is my parade
Funny how the fiddler knows exactly when to play