Words and music by Nigel Clothier
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Took the part of John the Baptist through no fault of my own
Hope Salome ain’t around
I was dealt a bad hand, needed a good partner,
I was barred from green bohemia
You make me tell the world, when the truth is known
All those perfect imperfections make the season of the rose
I’m trying to make what’s behind my eyes
Appear before my face
If I cut the strings, if I lose the things
Then the past is gone
You make me tell the world, when the truth is known
All those perfect imperfections make the season of the rose
I try not to be noticed, when I win I can’t accept it
I’m not to be trusted
You don’t know me well, I have got a steel resolve
For not doing what I’m told
Why do I resist it
The thing I want the most?
You make me tell the world, when the truth is known
It’s those perfect imperfections make the season of the rose
You make me tell the world, when the truth is known
All those perfect imperfections make the season of the rose
I’m the rain, hold me in your flower in the season of the rose
I’m the rain, hold me in your flower in the season of the rose
When your petals fall I will be your cushion in the season of the rose
The season of the rose
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