Ever have one of those songs that just rip your heart out, throws it on the floor and dances the jig on it?

Ok - maybe that’s just me.

In honor of George & Ann tonight - I’m posting the full lyrics of that very song that dances the jig on my right atrium each and every single damn time I listen to it. Heck, it dances even when I just think of the song. It goes deep inside - - to places that sometimes I’m even afraid to touch.

I first heard this song years and years ago - - and my first thought after my first real listen was, “God I hope to be loved like this someday”

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go

‘Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves A lovely world

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall
He put water colored roses in her hair
He said, “Love, I love you, I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine, the sunset too
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me

‘Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by
They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child
in the winter they were weavers of warmth,
in the summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow

‘Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running through the orchard screaming,

‘No God, don’t take him from me!’

But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, ‘Damn you man, don’t leave me with nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits to remind me!’

He said, ‘Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real’

So many seasons came and so many seasons went
and many times she saw her love’s face watering the flowers,
talking to the trees and singing to his children,
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
and how he seemed to laugh along, an how he seemed to hold her when she was crying

‘Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow

Because they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world

Jewel
Pieces of You (Album)