When I tell him
What I surely feel
He understands me less
Than a dead hare
And I don't paint pictures
I leave the frames blank
And That's why I don't paint pictures
I leave the blue of the sky high
I make love
For the love of art
And he doesn't understand me
But it's a beauty
A beauty for me
Only for me
And no one understands me
When I tell him
What I think I feel
He looks with a fixed gaze,
That you don't see
And that I don't paint pictures
I leave the frames blank
And that I don't paint pictures
I leave the blue of the sky high
I do love
For the love of art
And he doesn't understand me
But it's a beauty
A beauty for me
Only for me
And no one understands me
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