Paintings From Michael
I like the one with the sky storm
The one with the abandoned barn
I heard you painted in prison, right before they took your brushes away
Michael. I don't know you but I dream of you sometimes
To tell the truth I don't know what you did to deserve such hard time
I'd read to you in Sundays, right before they took your visits away
I'd kept all the letters you'd send, the ones about being home again
When you paint the pretty women, do you see them in your cell?
When they take you out for field word, do you hear the city bells?
Writer/s: Courtney Marie Andrews
