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There's a noise upstairs in the attic |
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It's the shuffle of worn out shoes |
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And the scent of the oil and brushes |
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Drifts down like a pale perfume |
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And he says, "i.. |
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I am a man |
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A simple man |
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...A man of colours |
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And I can see |
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See through the years |
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Years of a man |
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...A man of colours" |
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And the old man rubs his failing eyes |
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And takes a moment to watch the view |
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From a window nobody knows is there |
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He can see the empty street below |
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[Chorus] |
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He says, "i keep my life in this paintbox |
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I keep your face in these picture frames |
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And when I speak to this faded canvas it tells me |
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I have no need for words anyway..." |
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[Chorus] |
|
And he says, "i.. |
|
I am a man |
|
A simple man |
|
...A man of colours |
|
And I can see |
|
See through the tears |
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Tears of a man |
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...A man of colours" |
|
> |
