You're beautiful, almost
A lost and sad reflection
Of another's ghost

A shadow of a shadow
That's been haunting me the most
So close, so close

You're wonderful, nearly
Not quite a picture postcard
Of the way that it should be

A whisper, of a rumour
Of a dying melody
Perfect, but not really

Red are the roses, no doubt
At least until we throw them out
And violets I can do without
Regardless of their hue

Though such things have their place
I know it's true
But a pillow over the face
Maybe that's a kind of love too
You're wonderful, nearly
Not quite a picture postcard
Of the way that it it should be

A whisper, of a rumour
Of a dying melody
Perfect, but not really

You're beautiful, almost
A lost and sad reflection
Of another's ghost

A shadow, of a shadow
That's been haunting me the most
So close, so close

Beautiful, almost...