There's a little light left to be limed
A sharp side of your soul left to shine
Minutest of movements not mimed
Fifteen minutes means so little time
The spinning wheel's gold loses shine
A nameless crook takes to his shrine
The toll-less bell silently chimes
To christen the night's bottle of wine
Well there's a little lamb left in your lion
By the pig that's still yearning for flying
The princess hoping for bride
A charmless prince clutches his last dime
The air of a woman, sublime
The silver screen tarnishes with time
The wrinkles ravel and wind
On the goddess's face soaked in brine
The patina grows to a grime
No conviction for the thief of time
The princess now past her prime
And mirrors still to be disguised
Smiling eyes now painted wide
No more mountains left to be climbed
In the slick of the fine satin lining
A chapel still glowing bright
In a promise whispered through the night
The faintest of fruits on the vine
Knots left to unbind
Edicts by which to abide
Doors that swing open wide
To a heart that doesn't mind
All the pictures of your painted crimes
The virtue squeezed out by your vice
Or Lilly's tabloidesque slime
Or Hazie's twisted surprise
A fame mosquito, a social butterfly
With name-drops to help you climb high
The choicest of beaus left behind
There's still plenty of clothes left on the line
There's still plenty of clothes to wear when you die
4 Star View - Katherine Kenton's Lifetime Achievement Award Lyrics
4 Star View - Katherine Kenton's Lifetime Achievement Award Lyrics
Official
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There's a little light left to be limed
A sharp side of your soul left to shine
Minutest of movements not mimed
Fifteen minutes means so little time
The spinning wheel's gold loses shine
A nameless crook takes to his shrine
The toll-less bell silently chimes
To christen the night's bottle of wine
Well there's a little lamb left in your lion
By the pig that's still yearning for flying
The princess hoping for bride
A charmless prince clutches his last dime
The air of a woman, sublime
The silver screen tarnishes with time
The wrinkles ravel and wind
On the goddess's face soaked in brine
The patina grows to a grime
No conviction for the thief of time
The princess now past her prime
And mirrors still to be disguised
Smiling eyes now painted wide
No more mountains left to be climbed
In the slick of the fine satin lining
A chapel still glowing bright
In a promise whispered through the night
The faintest of fruits on the vine
Knots left to unbind
Edicts by which to abide
Doors that swing open wide
To a heart that doesn't mind
All the pictures of your painted crimes
The virtue squeezed out by your vice
Or Lilly's tabloidesque slime
Or Hazie's twisted surprise
A fame mosquito, a social butterfly
With name-drops to help you climb high
The choicest of beaus left behind
There's still plenty of clothes left on the line
There's still plenty of clothes to wear when you die
A sharp side of your soul left to shine
Minutest of movements not mimed
Fifteen minutes means so little time
The spinning wheel's gold loses shine
A nameless crook takes to his shrine
The toll-less bell silently chimes
To christen the night's bottle of wine
Well there's a little lamb left in your lion
By the pig that's still yearning for flying
The princess hoping for bride
A charmless prince clutches his last dime
The air of a woman, sublime
The silver screen tarnishes with time
The wrinkles ravel and wind
On the goddess's face soaked in brine
The patina grows to a grime
No conviction for the thief of time
The princess now past her prime
And mirrors still to be disguised
Smiling eyes now painted wide
No more mountains left to be climbed
In the slick of the fine satin lining
A chapel still glowing bright
In a promise whispered through the night
The faintest of fruits on the vine
Knots left to unbind
Edicts by which to abide
Doors that swing open wide
To a heart that doesn't mind
All the pictures of your painted crimes
The virtue squeezed out by your vice
Or Lilly's tabloidesque slime
Or Hazie's twisted surprise
A fame mosquito, a social butterfly
With name-drops to help you climb high
The choicest of beaus left behind
There's still plenty of clothes left on the line
There's still plenty of clothes to wear when you die
Writer: T. Bass
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid