Lyrics:
those?
Artist (C.Men):
Those are actually wedge sneakers, and it gives me a little extra boost
Interviewer (sketch comedy)
Oooh! Ooh. Sauce….
years have passed
The worthy Captain and his squad of troopers standing fast
The artist knew their faces well
The husbands of his lady friends
His
years have passed
The worthy Captain and his squad of troopers standing fast
The artist knew their faces well
The husbands of his lady friends
His
colors show the glory
Of the Master Artist's plan
Built by god for those who love Him
Those who trust the great "I am"
Those who trust the great "I am"
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
Oh, oh my darling
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah
The artist pays the price
So you won't have to pay
If only we would listen
To what they have to say
And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith
Men of good fortune, often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings, often can't do anything at all
The rich son waits for his father
a vast high powered rocket to the core of the sun
Want to read books in the studies of men
Born on the breeze and die on the wind
If I was an artist
And the men who hold high places
Must be the ones who start
To mold a new reality
Closer to the heart
Closer to the heart
The blacksmith
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 vast high powered rocket to the core of the sun
Want to read books in the studies of men
Born on the breeze and die on the wind
If I was an artist
Pictures of matchstick men
Pictures of matchstick men
Pictures of matchstick men
Pictures of matchstick men
Pictures of matchstick men
I can see those
Everything happening
At the turn of the century.
I'm gonna buy myself a time machine
Go to the turn of the century.
And all those people
Those men will break your bones,
Don't know how to build stable homes.
Those men will break your bones,
Don't know how to build stable homes.
I've been wearing the same damn clothes
For three damn days
Lincoln, Nebraska's got me in a haze
The thing about men like you
Is you got a lot
crusade
Pawns in the game are not victims of chance
Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
All of those
need
Gonna be feeling it, happy to show
Those men in the circus
Those men on the wire
Their feet hangin' fifty feet up
Know they're countin'
what's it good for anyway?
So I said
Fellas, like to ask you a thing if I may
What about Livingstone?
What about all those men?
Who have
One, two, three
Slip out the back before those
Handlers get too tight on you
I light my own fires now
I light my own fires now
Slip in this
Pack up all those phantoms
Shoulder that invisible load
Keep on riding north and west
Haunting that wilderness road
Like a ghost rider
Carry
His mind is up his sleeve
And his talk is make believe
Oh, Lord, the man's a fraud
He's a flim flam man
He's an artist
He's a flim flam man
He's
Morning fields of amber gray
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
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