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In a corner by the window of a small upstairs apartment
There´s a writer with his instrument in hand
He shuffles through some cords
paces cross the dusty floor
searches for a melody to bend

He reaches for a paper as he feels an inspiration
from the child that he sees playing on the lawn
he begins to ply his trade
Reality begins to fade
to find a place he feels where he belongs

And I don´t think Michelangelo could have paint it any better
Pictures that he painted in my mind
There lies the beauty of the Songsmith
take you any place and any time

Years and memories they fade
Stars were born and stars were made
The world forgets so easily
Cause we are mortal men
that´s why he struggles with his pen
try and leave us something to believe
Still on and on and on we go
in the ever changing flow
revolving ´till darkness fills the sky

Whoever really knows why it goes the way it goes
only those who dare to ask him why

And I don´t think Michelangelo could have paint it any better
Pictures that the old man sang to me
There lies the beauty of the Songsmith
takes you any place you want to be


There is a fire burning
in the darkening hallways of his mind
There is a fire burning
he is trying to find a reason for the rhyme

And I don´t think Michelangelo could have paint it any better
Pictures that he painted in my mind
there the beauty of the Songsmith
take you any place and any time