The Painter

The Painter

Standing there in the evening light
gathered underneath this tree
little choir embracing another spring
singing songs to the month of May
And once again you won’t believe 
this old trunk grows leaves so green
There’s a cold, cold corner in my heart for my memories

Children sitting in the blazing sun
Stains of ice cream on the stairs
radio talking ‘bout another war
smell of Diesel and hay in the air
A big old roof still shelters swallows, 
a family and some cows
There’s a cold, cold corner 
in my heart for my memories

A big old roof still shelters swallows, 
a family and some cows
There’s a cold, cold corner 
in my heart for my memories

This enchanted light in the orchard
and the field lies there to rest
Hear the silver brook 
running through the grass
growing shadows with the setting sun
An old man wearing mitten and cap 
disappearing in the fog
There’s a cold, cold corner 
in my heart for my memories

See the painter there in the old school yard
dancing snow flakes around his hat
You still dread to touch the shiny paint 
even after all these years
But the rosy cheeks of the girls 
are full of wrinkles, dull and grey
while I still believe 
that nothing will ever change
The rosy cheeks of the girls 
are full of wrinkles, dull and grey
I still believe 
that nothing will ever change 
The rosy cheeks of the girls 
are full of wrinkles, dull and grey
There’s a cold, cold corner 
in my heart for my memories