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Ordinary Man
There is a woman, who lives in this town
that has my heart, held in her hand
i see her in the, streets everyday
but i can't find, the words to say
But if were a writer, and could write a good hand
i'd write of this love, that i don't understand
but words in my head, they come and they go
i'm thinking i love her, but she'll never know
And if i were a sculpter, and had a good eye
i'd carve out her her beauty, in marble or ice
But these hands of mine, are far from refined
i guess i'll have to accept that im
just an ordinary man
I'm just an ordinary man
Now if i were good looking, and had a pretty face
and if i could walk, and speak with grace,
and if i had style, then i
wouldn't have to look down when she walked by
And if were a singer, and could sing a good key
i'd sing of this love, in melody
but this voice of mine, is far from refined
i guess i'll have to accept that im
just an ordinary man
I'm just an ordinary man
I know one day she'll look
i know one day she'll see me
and maybe that one day, she'll want to be with me
and maybe she'll love me
for who i am
Just as that ordinary man
Just as that ordinary man
Just as that ordinary man
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Just as that ordinary man
Just as that ordinary man
Just as that ordinary man
for who i am
and maybe she'll love me
and maybe that one day, she'll want to be with me
i know one day she'll see me
I know one day she'll look
I'm just an ordinary man
just an ordinary man
i guess i'll have to accept that im
but this voice of mine, is far from refined
i'd sing of this love, in melody
And if were a singer, and could sing a good key
wouldn't have to look down when she walked by
and if i had style, then i
and if i could walk, and speak with grace,
Now if i were good looking, and had a pretty face
I'm just an ordinary man
just an ordinary man
i guess i'll have to accept that im
But these hands of mine, are far from refined
i'd carve out her her beauty, in marble or ice
And if i were a sculpter, and had a good eye
i'm thinking i love her, but she'll never know
but words in my head, they come and they go
i'd write of this love, that i don't understand
But if were a writer, and could write a good hand
but i can't find, the words to say
i see her in the, streets everyday
that has my heart, held in her hand
There is a woman, who lives in this town
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| OOrdinary MMan |
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