My old friend lives up in the mountains
He flew up there to paint the world
He says even though interpretation's what I count on

This little picture to me seems blurred

Hard lines and the shadows come easy

I see it all just as clear as a bell
I just can't seem to set my easel to please me
I paint my heaven and it looks like hell


Is it me or is my vision jaded?
If I ask you, will you tell me true?

I say, no and yes, I think the world you've painted
It's just the way that it appears to you


Oh, your blue might be gray,
Your less might be more
Your window to the world

Might be the big front door
Your shiniest day
Might come in the middle of the night

That's just about right

He says, man I ain't coming down

Until my picture is perfect
And all the wonder has gone from my eyes
Down through my hands and on to the canvas

Still like my vision but still a surprise

Still life he says is the hardest impression

It's always moving so I just let it come through
And that my friend I say is the glory of true independence
Just to do what you do (what you do what you do


I don't think people's visions get jaded
I think the times change and so does the truth

So in that I think the world you've painted
Is just the way that it appears to you


We ended our talk on how many friendships had faded
And nowadays what makes a picture seem real
Are the simpler versions and not complicated

Thanks for the brushes man I'll see you next year

So let's roll on we know what we're here for

Souvenirs of all that we've seen
So write a story paint yourself and paint the town
When you look around you know where you've been


If you wonder if your vision is jaded
You just ask someone who will tell you true

One true friend who sees all that you've painted
Say hey man, that looks just like you