Postcards de James Blunt

Sundays sitting on your back porch,
And I came armed with a couple of chords,
And I played for you.
You let me keep you entertained,
With stories I exaggerate,
That you know aren’t true.
And as you sit there making daisy chains,
And I throw a hand grenade,
And tell you how it is I really feel for you.

I’m sending postcards from my heart,
With love for a postmark and then,
You’ll know that you make me,
Feel like we’ve been caught.
Like kids in the school-yard again.
And I can’t keep it to myself.
Can’t spell it any better,
L-O-V-E forever.
I hope you know that I’m,
Sending a postcard,
I don’t care who sees what I’ve said.
Or if the whole world knows what’s in my head.

We chased the sun till it got away
On a bicycle that your Daddy made,
But not made for two.
Then we sat out on your rocking chair,
You with a flower in your hair that I found for you.
But then Monday always comes around,
And it’s sad coz I can’t see you now.
I want you to know you’re always in my head.

I’m sending postcards from my heart,
With love for a postmark and then,
You’ll know that you make me,
Feel like we’ve been caught.
Like kids in the school-yard again.
And I can’t keep it to myself.
Can’t spell it any better:
L-O-V-E forever.
I hope you know that I’m,
Sending a postcard,
I don’t care who sees what I’ve said.
Or if the whole world knows what’s in my head.

You know sometimes it’s hard to see,
Or say the words that torture me,
But inside I know exactly how I feel.
The things that I can’t say outloud,
I’ll find a place to write it down.
I hope that they will find you in the end.