Lyrics:
You can trace the mystery of ancient history
Through art of artists and their models
You can comb through the Rome coliseum
And the rear
A Portrait of Jennie
More precious to me
Than a masterpiece how ever famous it be
The portrait of Jennie
Is etched on my heart
Where her
A Portrait of Jennie
More precious to me
Than a masterpiece
How ever famous it be
The portrait of Jennie
Is etched on my heart
Where her
If I were a painting
Captured on canvas
Alone in the portrait I would stand
And brush strokes bold
Yet soft as a whisper
The work of a feminine
the portrait of my life
All the colors of the palette
Dandce together on the canvas
Still the artist isn't through
My portrait's not complete
Without you
There could never be a portrait of my love
For nobody could paint a dream
You will never see a portrait of my love
For miracles are never seen.
some very
Cool self portrait's
I didn't know he was an artist!
This honor is going to
Make your lives easier
For two reasons: You don’t have to defend
left you)
Where they talk behind doors of new worlds
And faraway places
And the portrait of the artist
Was kept down in the basement
In the Tower
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
Paint two eyes, make them cry
Paint two lips, make them lies
And you're painting the portrait of a fool
Paint one heart that's been untrue
Portrait of an artist
Portrait of a dog
A portrait painted poor
A new horizon
Artifice, arguing
Two tailed
Take me to the doctor
Tape me to your locker
it happen
One cannot describe the portrait in words, only in action, this way
The artist is sitting in a darkened room, resting from the noise
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
Waking on a train dreaming,
Charmed alone they started speaking.
Captured in his artist way
Before the memories fade away.
To remember
There could never be a portrait of my love
For nobody could paint a dream
You will never see a portrait of my love
For miracles are never seen.
throughout the book, adding up to a kind of self-portrait although not a very naturalistic one. And I used the word Bible in the title of this book because
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
For they could not
Should not be sorry for your opinions
George Bush… has some very
Cool self-portrait's i
Didn’t know he was an artist
I felt my nerves a bit
And I don’t
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How skillful the hands of the artist
Who painted this picture of me
He saw with the eyes of a master
How beautiful my life could be
Where once was
The kitchen garden in the eyot
Is where the lovers and the last fish play shadow for the artist
Travelling incognito
The meal of Lord Candlestick in
There could never be a portrait of my love
For nobody can paint a dream
You will never see a portrait of my love
For miracles are never seen
Can We Pretend
Can we pretend
That from now on
There is no yesterday
Paint a portrait of tomorrow
With no colors from today
[Chorus]
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