Print

I read that Norman Rockwell died, I didn't even know himBut I remember visiting Stockbridge, the town he made his home inI remember how those people glowed, just because they had a chance to shareAn old story or two about a man who'd painted America thereAnd when a hand reaches out and brushes livesThe spirit of the painter never diesOh beautiful for spacious skies, oh misery the gunsThat bloodied amber waves of grain in 1861When a gaunt and awkward gentle man, unkempt but understandingEngaged a war the conscience of a nation was demandingAnd when a voice rises up to challenge liesThe spirit of the speaker never diesNow I won't be a president, and I can't be a kingBut I have these hands to reach for you, I have a voice to singAnd I'm surely not an artist with a canvas or a brushBut I paint these songs with colors that remind me of your touchAn American in Paris wrote a Rhapsody in BlueAnd passed away at 38 before his time came dueSome felt cheated of a gift so prematurely takenBut I believe we're born again, and often reawakenedWhen a song touches something deep insideThe spirit of the singer never diesLetras de cancionesI lay no claim to genius when I'm playing this guitarSometimes I'm lost for words just trying to describe the way we areBut my book is filled with sketches made of dreams and prayers and friendsAnd I draw these songs with images of seeing you againI read that Norman Rockwell died, I never even knew himBut it wasn't hard to see the love in what the man was doingBut you don't have to be a genius or the leader of the bandJust as long as while you're on this earth you do the best you canAnd though the road may be filled with turns and bendsThe journey of your spirit never ends From Letras Mania