Songtext von Portrait Painter

Weekend been here Taking care of everything Although it isn't much Tell the inventor of crayons Many wallpapers they've improved And tell the funeralparlor I still feel ripped off Sick of making deals I'm slipping on dead leaves It's like he had two homes And in this cabin He kept what mattered most Always open But if anyone came too close They'd pass through like a ghost Never saw him Sit still only in his boat I was not welcomed there So still, real still As he was practicing To finally give in The cabinet's emptied, Abandoned it will rot I lock up and leave The wooden rowboat Half-sunken in the reeds The wiping out proceeds Tell that portrait painter His eyes weren't that color, no Still i recognize the glow Drawing Shows a boy whose rocket leaves Disappearing over trees