Song Of The Week VII

I remember loving the album Pieces of You by Jewel from the first moment I heard it. All of the songs feel like masterpieces. This one moved me to tears when I heard it and it still has the power to do the same each time I hear it.
It's one of the most beautiful love stories I've ever read, seen or heard.

I'm probably an old romantic, well I am, I can't help it.
There's something in the words and the way she sings it that makes you feel that you want to experience a love like that. As though anything less, simply wouldn't be good enough.

Anyway, enough of my rambling, here it is, I just wish there were a video to watch too.

Jewel - Painters:



I've also, for the first time, included the lyrics because it would be a shame not to:

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 colour 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-coloured 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 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
And 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!,'
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water-coloured 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 leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we 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,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was crying
'Cause they were painters and they had 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 colour carelessly,
Painted his portrait a thousand times,
Or maybe just his smile,
And her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, her and her canvas still follow
Because they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world.