| There’s a noise upstairs in the attic,
|
| it’s the shuffle of worn out shoes.
|
| and the scent of the oil and brushes,
|
| drifts down like a pale perfume.
|
| and he says, «I…
|
| I am a man
|
| a Simple man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours.
|
| and I can see
|
| see through the years
|
| years of a man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours»
|
| and the old man rubs his failing eyes,
|
| takes a moment to watch the view.
|
| from a window nobody knows he’s there,
|
| he can see the empty street below.
|
| and he says, «I…
|
| I am a man
|
| a Simple man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours.
|
| and I can see
|
| see through the years
|
| years of a man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours»
|
| he says, «I keep my life in this paintbox
|
| I keep your face in these picture frames
|
| when I speak to the empty canvas… it tells me…
|
| I have no need for words anyway…»
|
| and he says, «I…
|
| I am a man
|
| a Simple man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours.
|
| and I can see
|
| see through these tears
|
| tears of a man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours»
|
| and he says, «I…
|
| I am a man
|
| a Simple man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours.
|
| and I can see
|
| see through the years
|
| years of a man,
|
| . |
| a man of colours» |