David Mallett Phil Brown
I knew a painter in my younger days
A man who lived with brushes, sticks and stones
His days were filled with canvas scenes
Of browns and blues and meadow greens
And the world just passed on by his door
He lived, but lived alone
And he'd come to town with his old wool cap pulled down
Surrounded by the dogs that were his friends
At time too drunk to stand, he'd shake familiar hands
And sit around the Esso station, 'til his loneliness would end
And I knew a painter, in my reckless days
Bristle bearded, humble on his feet
A sympathetic, sad old elf
He knew me better than I knew myself
In the last days of my boyhood
In my time upon the street
And long through the night, a faded yellow light
Would burn inside the room where he would stand
And play the old victrola and drink his rusty wine
And conduct the Mozart music with his heart and shaking hand
But he could paint a picture, and he could capture life
And no one ever felt things more than he
He was never much for roses, he'd sooner paint the thorns
'Cause he found a keener beauty there
That no one else could see
Someone bought the house he lived in
Painted up the room he died in
Swept away the cobwebs and the dust from off the floor
The children laugh, the seasons run
Young lovers roll in midnight fun
But no one loves more than the one
Who paints the world no more
And long through the night, a faded yellow light
Would burn inside the room where he would stand
And play the old victrola and drink his rusty wine
And conduct the Mozart music with his heart and shaking hand
