Watching the clouds roll by they remind her of her lover, how he left
       her
       And of times long ago when she used color carelessly, painted his
       portrait
       A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
       And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
       'Cause they were painters, and they had painting themselves, a lovely
       world
       Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall
       He put water colored roses in her hair
       He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you the mountains, the
       sunshine, the sunset too"
       I just want to give you a world as beautiful as you are to me
       'Cause they were painters, and they had painting themselves, a lovely
       world
       So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, they made it an art
       to live by
       They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child
       In the winter they were weavers of warmth, in the summer they were
       carpenters of love
       They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow
       'Cause they were painters, and they had painting themselves, a lovely
       world
       Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
       And in her heart she knew something was wrong
       She went running through the orchard screaming
       'No God, don't take him from me!'
       But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
       She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
       She threw them down screaming, 'Damn you man, don't leave me
       With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold
       portraits
       to remind me!'
       He said, 'Love I only leave, but only a little, try to understand
       I put my soul in this life we've created with these four hands
       Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
       My body may die now, but these paintings are real'
       So many seasons came and so many seasons went
       And many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers
       Talking to the trees and singing to his children
       And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening
       And how he seemed to laugh along, an how he seemed to hold her when
       she was crying
       'Cause they were painters, and they had painting themselves, a lovely
       world
       Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
       Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover, how he left
       her
       And of times long ago when she used color carelessly, painted his
       portrait
       A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
       And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
       Yes, she and her canvas still follow
       'Cause they were painters, and they had painting themselves, a lovely
       world




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