Damien Rice
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Black is the Colour

Damien Rice


Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands

I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes
I go the Clyde and I mourn and weep
Shiny I can never be

Black is the colour of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
And I love the ground whereon she stands

And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands
And I love the ground whereon she stands

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