Every father's daughter is a virgin
Every mother's son's not really bad
But peep behind the curtain while they're sleeping
They'd see something there would make them sad
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
And other things are just illusions too
Sunday tea and armchairs by the fire
Patterned plates and photographs gone by
Can keep them sitting safe within their memories
And choose the world and write, they close an eye
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
And other things are just illusions too
Walks in the garden
Life's still a dream
Trips down the river
And things never quite what they seem
They tell themselves that summer's round the corner
When winter snows lie thick upon the ground
But think before you scorn them in this dream world
Perhaps the peace you seek is all they've found
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
Plates of willow, white and blue
And other things are just illusions too
And other things are just illusions too
And other things are just illusions too
And other things are just illusions too
And other things are just illusions too