Can I tell you a story that made me who I am?
Can I write them down, can I put them in a song?
Can I paint them on your face?

Cause, baby, this is the taste of spring.
You and me on the most ordinary day.
And, you and me, this is the taste of spring.
You and me on the most ordinary day.

Can I tell you the names of the people in my face?
They are all from some kind of story.
Can we write them down, can we put them in a song?
Can we paint them in our place?