Flowers, moonlight, sticky things Songs that mean nothing, places I've been Blood fruit, crying, old guitar strings They're all softly poetic, smoothly obscene When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be velveteen When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be Velveteen I recall all those wasted snowflakes dying in the fall And I remember those starry eyes, rose glasses bewitch me, saw that Our words and our bodies will always flow, like the Cool, clear stream on the rocks below When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be velveteen When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be Velveteen We sat on the beach at night, and it shone fantastic And the lake after dark looks like, looks like burn plastic We all need a space to fall down and grow And it's so sickly-sweet like some bad T.V. show When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be velveteen When I use the word "You" I don't know who I mean If this song was a painting It would be Velveteen Forgot that we used to say "We all learn to fly some day" I thought that was nice But I was wrong