| 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 to 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 I’m a painter and i want to paint you a lovely world |
| 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 mountains, the sunshine, |
| the sunset too |
| I just want to give you a world 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, they made it an art to live |
| by They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child |
| in the winter they were weavers of warmth, in 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 |