Drew You a Picture

He got in it, and he drew up the covers (light, light, light, light, long and winding road)
The purple crayon dropped on the floor
And harold dropped off to sleep (at night, night, night, night, lead me to my home)

I drew you a picture that looks just like my love
And every color's in it

The yellow is my hat
And the purple is the path
And the orange is for your jacket
Even though your jacket's black
'Cause I know you'd like that
Yes I know that that tracks
I'll be borrowing the fabric
Can I have it till you're back?

You can draw your own path
Mine's just a suggestion
You can keep the picture if you need a direction
Use it as a reference if your writer's blocked
If you need an idea, I'm right down the block

But he didn't seem to be getting anywhere on a long straight path
So, he left the path for a shortcut across a field
And the Moon went with him

Light, light, light, light
Long and winding road (you're light, light, light, light)
At night, night, night, night
Lead me to my home (you're light, light, light, light)
Light, light, light, light
Long and winding road (you're light, light, light, light)
At night, night, night, night
Lead me to my home (you're light, light, light, light)

I made you a playlist that sounds just like my love
And every genre's in it

The metalheads scream it
And the freestylers, they wing it
And the soul singers sing it
So their listeners can feel it
Kinda like how you've let me feel it

So I will scream it
So I will wing it
So I will sing it
Kinda like how you've let me feel it
So I will scream it
So I will wing it
So I will

Harold knew that the higher up he went
The father he could see
So he decided to make the hill into a mountain
If he went high enough, he thought
He could see the window of his bedroom
He was tired and he felt he ought to be getting to bed
He hoped he could see his bedroom window from the top of the mountain

But as he look down over the other side he slipped
And there wasn't any other side of the mountain
He was falling, in thin air
But, luckily, he kept his wits
And his purple crayon