|
(jeff black) |
|
My old friend lives up in the mountains |
|
He flew up there to paint the world |
|
He says, 'even though interpretation's what i count on |
|
This little picture to me seems blurred |
|
Hard lines and the shadows come easy |
|
I see it all just as clear as a bell |
|
I just can't seem to set my easel to please me |
|
I paint my heaven but it looks like hell' |
|
Chorus: |
|
You blue might be gray, your less might be more |
|
Your window to the world might be your own front door |
|
Your shiniest day might come in the middle of the night |
|
That's just about right |
|
He says, 'man i ain't comin' down until my picture is pefect |
|
And all the wonder is gone from my eyes |
|
Down through my hands and on to the canvas |
|
Still like my vision, but still a surprise' |
|
'real life,' he says, 'is the hardest impression |
|
It's always movin' so i let it come through' |
|
And that. my friend, i say, is the glory of true independence |
|
Just to do what you do what you do what you do |
|
Repeat chorus |
|
My old friend came down from the mountain |
|
Without even lookin' he found a little truth |
|
You can go through life with the greatest intentions |
|
But you do what you do what you just gotta do |
|
Repeat chrous |
