She comes through the painting
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Into this world
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Born and bred by colours
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With the light as her God
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Following every move I make
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Every step I take is observed
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Killing my thirst of longing
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Far beyond the boundaries of death
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I'm running down a sunlit path
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Strengthened stroke by stroke
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The brush, creating lives
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It's like the hand of God
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But this God is the pastureland of the weak
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Where we will never set foot
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Life's distorted by these low-minded
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Made into a dismal path
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Affection sinking below horizons of disgrace
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Subsequently dying, immersed in blackened ignorance
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The stench of sickening hypocrisy
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Hiding from the truth behind walls within
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Constantly reinforcing them in this world,
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this world of painters
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In the arms of midsummer embrace
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I leave my body to the wilderness
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My thoughts they fall from grace
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To discover the secrets of nature
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In this world, this world of painters
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-----------------
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Painted A Life
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| The Provenance |
