Dot, why did write these words?
They are your words, George
The words you uttered so often when you worked
"Order, design, tension, composition, balance, light," Dot, I cannot read this word
"Harmony"
Sunday
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Purple yellow red grass
As we pass
Through arrangements of shadows
Towards the verticals of tree
Forever
"So much love in his words...
Forever with his colors...
How George looks...
He can look forever...
What does he see?
His eyes so dark and shiny...
So careful...
So exact..."
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Orange violet mass
Of the grass
In our perfect park
Made of flecks of light
And dark
And parasols
People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On an ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
"White
A blank page or canvas
His favorite
So many possibilities..."
Stephen Sondheim - Sunday (Finale) Lyrics
Stephen Sondheim - Sunday (Finale) Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
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Dot, why did write these words?
They are your words, George
The words you uttered so often when you worked
"Order, design, tension, composition, balance, light," Dot, I cannot read this word
"Harmony"
Sunday
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Purple yellow red grass
As we pass
Through arrangements of shadows
Towards the verticals of tree
Forever
"So much love in his words...
Forever with his colors...
How George looks...
He can look forever...
What does he see?
His eyes so dark and shiny...
So careful...
So exact..."
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Orange violet mass
Of the grass
In our perfect park
Made of flecks of light
And dark
And parasols
People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On an ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
"White
A blank page or canvas
His favorite
So many possibilities..."
They are your words, George
The words you uttered so often when you worked
"Order, design, tension, composition, balance, light," Dot, I cannot read this word
"Harmony"
Sunday
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Purple yellow red grass
As we pass
Through arrangements of shadows
Towards the verticals of tree
Forever
"So much love in his words...
Forever with his colors...
How George looks...
He can look forever...
What does he see?
His eyes so dark and shiny...
So careful...
So exact..."
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Orange violet mass
Of the grass
In our perfect park
Made of flecks of light
And dark
And parasols
People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On an ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
"White
A blank page or canvas
His favorite
So many possibilities..."
Writer: Stephen Sondheim
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.