Painters
 作词 : Jewel
 作曲 : Jewel
 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 of times long ago
 When she used to color carelessly painted his portrait a thousand times
 Or maybe just his smile
 Her 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 just want to give you a world as beautiful as you are to me
 Cause I'm a painter and i want to paint you
 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
 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!'
 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 only leave a little, try to understand
 I put my soul in this life we've 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 many seasons went and many times she saw her loves face watering the flowers
 Talking to the trees and singing to his children
 And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening 'nd how he seamed to laugh along
 How he seemed to hold her when she was crying
 'Cause they were painters and they have painted 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 to color carelessly
 Painted his portrait a thousand times
 Or maybe just his smile
 Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
 Yes, her and her canvas still follow
 'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
 A lovely
 'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
 A lovely world