Symphonies And Vans Lyrics & Chords By Martha Tilston

We are the age of reason.
There is no turning back.
And I'm not talking about righteousness and all that crap.
You put your hand on my shoulder.
Come on, don't look so lost.
But there is no art these days, I say;
It's just the frame and what it costs.
And then we wonder why we're lost.
Well, he knows all about the damage
and he takes me anyway.

The way he pulls me in with his big hands.
He talks in symphonies and engines and vans.
My man
he is rare catch to land.
Come and let me me wipe the engine grease from your face
Throw me down with your hands around my waist.
My man watch out! I see white wedding lace (yes, I do)

He gets this smirk on him wherever he lies
I think I see him, my children in his eyes.
He can't lie, my man.
He's a rare prize.
He can't lie, my man.
He's a rare prize.
My man, I see my children in his eyes.
My man, I see my children in his eyes.

I'm in the house on my own,
So I get the atlas out.
Madagascar, yeah I'd like a bit of that.
I trace my finger down to La Reunion,
but you can't go everywhere.
And really home is with my man.

Well, I know he understands
all about the damage (yes, he does)
and he takes me anyway

The way he pulls me in with his big hands.
He talks in symphonies and engines and vans.
My man
he's rare catch to land.
Come and let me me wipe the engine grease from your face
Throw me down with your big hands around my waist
My man watch out! I'll be collecting white wedding lace.

He gets this smirk on him wherever he lies
I think I see him, my children in his eyes.
He can't lie, my man.
He's a rare prize.
He can't lie, my man.
He's a rare prize.
My man, I see my children in his eyes.
My man, I see my children in his eyes.