Tom Sparks: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)
• MP3 short clip, lo-fi play (modem)

Every time I pass you, I look into your eyes.
I see the love we had from yesterday.
It somehow made me blind, yet somehow made you mine,
Much more so than you are today.

You're nothing but a picture hanging on my wall,
My mending heart still aches when I pass you in the hall.
Yet you're nothing but a picture, after all.

Your memory lasts forever in that frame on the wall,
And though it's hard to look, I do everyday.
The frame is chipped and cracked now,
But I don't mind at all, 'cause though you've gone, your love has stayed.

But you're nothing but a picture hanging on my wall,
My mending heart still aches when I pass you in the hall.
Yet you're nothing but a picture, after all.

I still feel your skin so soft; I still taste your sweet, sweet lips-
It's amazing how you affect me now; it doesn't make much sense.

'Cause you're nothing but a picture hanging on my wall,
My mending heart still aches when I pass you in the hall.
'Cause you're nothing but a picture, after all.

You're nothing but a picture, after all.