Amongst the books, an angel I've not met
And time hasn't touched her yet
From a to m to z she swans, as if avoiding bed
Pigtails instead of wings
I strung her harp with my heart strings
And I would ask this spring for her
If I knew what the right words were
And time hasn't touched her yet
From a to m to z she swans, as if avoiding bed
Pigtails instead of wings
I strung her harp with my heart strings
And I would ask this spring for her
If I knew what the right words were