|
I forgotten how often we saw Magritte |
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He's been much on my mind these days |
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Often we saw Magritte |
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Inside a canvas of blue saturated with beauty |
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In a web of glass |
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Pinned to the edges of vision |
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There's a car-horn in the street outside |
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And a museum with its windows open |
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Often we saw Magritte |
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Running with the legends of conspicuous men |
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And how often we forgot Magritte |
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How we remembered him then |
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And worshipped at his feet |
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Pinned to the edges of vision |
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Somebody's coming that hates us |
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Better watch the art |
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Upstairs there's a canvas stretched |
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For umbrellas and bowler hats |
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Everybody knows Rene did that |
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Often we saw Magritte |
|
Pinned to the edges of vision |
|
Often we saw Magritte |
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We all know Rene did that |
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Often we saw Magritte |
