Lyrics:
You're as pretty as a picture
In your brand new evening gown
Within your eyes I see that starlight of old
With that smile a little bold
What
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
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
Expressing life, in shades of grey.
(Outro)
As the artist's vision, comes alive,
In their creation, we thrive.
Canvas of dreams, forever bold,
In the heart
generation.
(Chorus)
The ballad of Brick Lane's brushstrokes, a story untold,
Of artists and rebels, with spirits bold.
With spray cans and stencils, they
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
And everyone in friends
Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others aren't so bold
The artist walks alone
Someone
Who studies honesty with wilder-gaze
While through it's oddity must
It's wings take flight!
Through alchemy the artist's mind's a maze, a
Labyrinth
honor you, creators, bold and true
With every stroke and song, you bring the new
In every form and every way
Your art will shine, it lights our day
honor you, creators, bold and true
With every stroke and song, you bring the new
In every form and every way
Your art will shine, it lights our day
and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Yes, closer to the heart
Philosophers and plowmen
Each must know
civilization than full recognition of
The place of the artist
If art is to nourish the roots of our culture
Society must set the artist free to follow
His vision
on
But they're all bold as love
Yes, they're all bold as love
Yeah, they're all bold as love
Just ask the axis
My red is so confident that he flashes
and the artist
Reflect it in their art
They forge their creativity
Closer to the heart
Yes, closer to the heart
Philosophers and plowmen
Each must know
on
But they're all bold as love
Yes, they're all bold as love
Yeah, they're all bold as love
Just ask the axis
My red is so confident that he flashes
Art is dead
Art is dead
Art is dead
Art is dead
Entertainers like to seem complicated
But we're not complicated
I can explain it pretty
Blue sing la lune sing lagoon
Visions are making me stay
The artist pretending it's art
The question is where do you pay
Unpack my case one more
Heartfelt
I feel my artist's heart art melt
And then my sentimental guard drops
Sending me searching for my heart mop
Heartfelt
I feel my artist's
Blue sing la lune sing lagoon
Visions are making me stay
The artist pretending it's art
The question is where do you pay
Unpack my case one more
Blue sing la lune sing lagoon
Visions are making me stay
The artist pretending it's art
The question is where do you pay
Unpack my case one more
make an art out of staying alive
If you do just as you're told
These are streets of gold
Ev'ry boulevard is a miracle mile
You'll take the town
If I were a painting
Captured on canvas
Alone in the portriat I would stand
And brush strokes bold
Yet soft as a whisper
The work of a feminine hand
Near the beaches of Lumsden, where the icy waters gleam,
Was an artist named David Blackwood, with visions like a dream.
Born in Wesleyville, a town
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