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These Hands - Unreleased, Self Portrait

de Bob Dylan

A cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you

A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant
A fairground's painted swings
These foolish things remind me of you

You came, you saw, you conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be

The winds of March that make my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who's to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things remind me of you

Let me tell you
First daffodils and all excited cables
And candlelights on little corner tables
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things
Remind me of you

The park at evening and scented roses
And waiters whistling as the last bar closes
The beauty that is spring springs

How strange, how sweet, to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you so near to me

The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
These foolish things
Remind me of you

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