Joel Kroeker Your Painted Face
There's a hole in the wall
Right below your old portrait
There's a universe inside that old hole
There's a song in your picture
But the choir is still sleeping
And the artist is out on the street in the cold
He's painting a landscape with his 3 O'clock shadow
And a cold cloud hangs in the sun's rightful place
In a sick drunken bliss
He put his heart and his fist
Through the empty black hole right below your painted
face
And he falls in slow motion
To the depths of his heart ache
He breaks every promise as he sinks with the dead
But today he got lucky
And the angels are gracious
And when all is forgiven, he sinks back into his bed
There's a hole in the plaster
Right behind your old portrait
The black hole still hides behind a wax doll of you
But the choir is now singing
And the landscape's a fresco
And the artist is painting the streets black and blue
He's painting a landscape
With his 3 O'clock shadow
And a cold cloud hangs in the sun's rightful place
In a sick drunken bliss
He put his heart and his fist
Through the empty black hole right below your painted
face
