Hawksley Workman - Claire Fontaine lyrics

Claire Fontaine Who are you? I like the paper you make We were introduced By a lover of mine And now she's gone But I still have you Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine Are you a lumberjack or something? Does your father own a forest Are the nicest trees for choppin'? Claire Fontaine And Claire Fontaine Your sheets are very smooth I like to rub my pen across them Do you feel the way I do Claire Fontaine? Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me In the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine If newspapers used Your paper for the news Things would seem less terrifying Just because of you Claire Fontaine And were you in a garden When they said the war had started Do you think you'd write a letter That would start 'my dear departed...' Claire Fontaine Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the things that I write to sing Claire Fontaine oooh-oh Claire Fontaine I'm going home for Christmas They may refuse me entry 'Cause you're native to this country Claire Fontaine But as a foreigner relinquish A pad of paper so distinguished I'd say 'never, never, never I'll take this pad of mine to heaven' Claire Fontaine Where maybe I would choose To write a fan letter or two I might write one to Andy Warhol And the other one for you And you could rest a**ured in knowing They'd be on your paper too Claire Fontaine, Who are you? Claire Fontaine You seem to bring The best out of me And the thing that I write to sing Claire Fontaine