There's a noise upstairs in the attic
it's the shuffle of worn out shoes
and the scent of the oil and brushes
drifts down like a pale perfume
and he says, "I...
I am a man,
a simple man,
...a man of colours,
and I can see
see through the years,
years of a man,
...a man of colours"
and the old man rubs his failing eyes
and takes a moment to watch the view
from a window nobody knows is there
he can see the empty street below
he says, "I keep my life in this paintbox
I keep your face in these picture frames
and when I speak to this faded canvas it tells me
I have no need for words anyway..."
and he says, "I...
I am a man,
a simple man,
...a man of colours,
and I can see
see through the tears,
tears of a man,
...a man of colours"