The Painter

We see him dancing in the morning

Stars depart the yawning sky

He'll take the hour that is passing

And leave it in his lover's eye

And if you want he'll make it seem

As though you're walking in his dream

A mystic sea



We hear him laughing in the shadows

As he smuggles in the sand

He's found another kind of color

In the magic he has donned

And if you want he'll take the time

To ask the sun and moon to rhyme

And then combine

He draws no lines between what he's imagining


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