Eyes Of A Painter (Live)
๐ต 1962 characters
โฑ๏ธ 4:00 duration
๐ ID: 9996248
๐ Lyrics
Gray-haired and flint-eyed, his sunburned face lined
Grandpa was a man of few words
He had a way of not wanting to say
Any more than he thought would be heard
The long years of living, day-to-day giving
Had carved out a map on his face
With little to lose, he'd learned how to choose
And his choices were easy to trace
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
From a long line of teachers, white Baptist preachers
He was born with an Indian will
His quiet dark eyes, reading the light
As he rode in the low Osage hills
His school was the prairie, the sage, the wild berry
The quail, the wide open sky
The cottonwood thicket by the slow rolling river
The Redbud and the hot cattle drive
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
There were days filled with thinking, nights with the drinking
For a lost love that raged like a storm
Oh, but how his eyes smiled, when he'd talk to a child
The rough hands so gentle and warm
His strong arms were brown, where the long sleeves
Rolled down, on his faded blue cotton shirt
When times got hard, he'd go out in the yard
And he'd cuss away some of his hurt
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
Now the garden's grown dusty, hand axe lies rusty
The door's banging hard in the wind
Grandpa's store is closed down, like most of the town
And it won't be open again
And the big white car, sits out in the yard
Of the house he built solid and true
Oh, but I see his eyes, burning tonight
Like the stars in the sky he once knew
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
Grandpa was a man of few words
He had a way of not wanting to say
Any more than he thought would be heard
The long years of living, day-to-day giving
Had carved out a map on his face
With little to lose, he'd learned how to choose
And his choices were easy to trace
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
From a long line of teachers, white Baptist preachers
He was born with an Indian will
His quiet dark eyes, reading the light
As he rode in the low Osage hills
His school was the prairie, the sage, the wild berry
The quail, the wide open sky
The cottonwood thicket by the slow rolling river
The Redbud and the hot cattle drive
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
There were days filled with thinking, nights with the drinking
For a lost love that raged like a storm
Oh, but how his eyes smiled, when he'd talk to a child
The rough hands so gentle and warm
His strong arms were brown, where the long sleeves
Rolled down, on his faded blue cotton shirt
When times got hard, he'd go out in the yard
And he'd cuss away some of his hurt
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
Now the garden's grown dusty, hand axe lies rusty
The door's banging hard in the wind
Grandpa's store is closed down, like most of the town
And it won't be open again
And the big white car, sits out in the yard
Of the house he built solid and true
Oh, but I see his eyes, burning tonight
Like the stars in the sky he once knew
He had the eyes of a painter
Heart of a maker of songs
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
Precious and so quickly gone
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:11.93] Gray-haired and flint-eyed, his sunburned face lined
[00:15.89] Grandpa was a man of few words
[00:19.99] He had a way of not wanting to say
[00:23.69] Any more than he thought would be heard
[00:27.96] The long years of living, day-to-day giving
[00:31.96] Had carved out a map on his face
[00:36.03] With little to lose, he'd learned how to choose
[00:39.94] And his choices were easy to trace
[00:44.04] He had the eyes of a painter
[00:46.52] Heart of a maker of songs
[00:50.27] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[00:54.88] Precious and so quickly gone
[01:00.80] From a long line of teachers, white Baptist preachers
[01:04.84] He was born with an Indian will
[01:08.80] His quiet dark eyes, reading the light
[01:12.97] As he rode in the low Osage hills
[01:16.96] His school was the prairie, the sage, the wild berry
[01:21.67] The quail, the wide open sky
[01:25.27] The cottonwood thicket by the slow rolling river
[01:29.23] The Redbud and the hot cattle drive
[01:33.20] He had the eyes of a painter
[01:36.33] Heart of a maker of songs
[01:39.80] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[01:44.32] Precious and so quickly gone
[01:56.43] There were days filled with thinking, nights with the drinking
[02:00.44] For a lost love that raged like a storm
[02:04.44] Oh, but how his eyes smiled, when he'd talk to a child
[02:08.41] The rough hands so gentle and warm
[02:12.56] His strong arms were brown, where the long sleeves
[02:16.08] Rolled down, on his faded blue cotton shirt
[02:20.56] When times got hard, he'd go out in the yard
[02:24.69] And he'd cuss away some of his hurt
[02:29.17] He had the eyes of a painter
[02:31.65] Heart of a maker of songs
[02:35.69] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[02:40.24] Precious and so quickly gone
[02:45.72] Now the garden's grown dusty, hand axe lies rusty
[02:50.22] The door's banging hard in the wind
[02:53.78] Grandpa's store is closed down, like most of the town
[02:57.87] And it won't be open again
[03:02.34] And the big white car, sits out in the yard
[03:05.86] Of the house he built solid and true
[03:10.35] Oh, but I see his eyes, burning tonight
[03:14.34] Like the stars in the sky he once knew
[03:18.40] He had the eyes of a painter
[03:21.46] Heart of a maker of songs
[03:24.91] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[03:29.57] Precious and so quickly gone
[03:33.53] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[03:39.08] Precious and so quickly gone
[03:43.61]
[00:15.89] Grandpa was a man of few words
[00:19.99] He had a way of not wanting to say
[00:23.69] Any more than he thought would be heard
[00:27.96] The long years of living, day-to-day giving
[00:31.96] Had carved out a map on his face
[00:36.03] With little to lose, he'd learned how to choose
[00:39.94] And his choices were easy to trace
[00:44.04] He had the eyes of a painter
[00:46.52] Heart of a maker of songs
[00:50.27] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[00:54.88] Precious and so quickly gone
[01:00.80] From a long line of teachers, white Baptist preachers
[01:04.84] He was born with an Indian will
[01:08.80] His quiet dark eyes, reading the light
[01:12.97] As he rode in the low Osage hills
[01:16.96] His school was the prairie, the sage, the wild berry
[01:21.67] The quail, the wide open sky
[01:25.27] The cottonwood thicket by the slow rolling river
[01:29.23] The Redbud and the hot cattle drive
[01:33.20] He had the eyes of a painter
[01:36.33] Heart of a maker of songs
[01:39.80] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[01:44.32] Precious and so quickly gone
[01:56.43] There were days filled with thinking, nights with the drinking
[02:00.44] For a lost love that raged like a storm
[02:04.44] Oh, but how his eyes smiled, when he'd talk to a child
[02:08.41] The rough hands so gentle and warm
[02:12.56] His strong arms were brown, where the long sleeves
[02:16.08] Rolled down, on his faded blue cotton shirt
[02:20.56] When times got hard, he'd go out in the yard
[02:24.69] And he'd cuss away some of his hurt
[02:29.17] He had the eyes of a painter
[02:31.65] Heart of a maker of songs
[02:35.69] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[02:40.24] Precious and so quickly gone
[02:45.72] Now the garden's grown dusty, hand axe lies rusty
[02:50.22] The door's banging hard in the wind
[02:53.78] Grandpa's store is closed down, like most of the town
[02:57.87] And it won't be open again
[03:02.34] And the big white car, sits out in the yard
[03:05.86] Of the house he built solid and true
[03:10.35] Oh, but I see his eyes, burning tonight
[03:14.34] Like the stars in the sky he once knew
[03:18.40] He had the eyes of a painter
[03:21.46] Heart of a maker of songs
[03:24.91] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[03:29.57] Precious and so quickly gone
[03:33.53] His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
[03:39.08] Precious and so quickly gone
[03:43.61]