كلمات The unsigned painting

There must be a golden frame Coming to me Cuz where are you? Where are you? Where are you? The very day when you first heard Your heart beat Listens for you still So I think it's not so much the painting As what you give yourself By what you leave Your signature... On Sundays the ladies Took off their wiry, old hats and Made donuts in the back of The church. I can Smell them cooking in middle of mass Cakes are prizes at carnivals Holding hands-that's a gift Of our landscapes For the heart is always That one summer night you stretch it from face to face Like chewing gum. You can rig it up And hear each other thru a tin can Now it bakes and hardens like an old Dream under the front porch Where the air is talcum Mamma's eyes are blue And Father took the weird beast We're walking next to you That is the picture that I see