Paint Video (MV)

He was an artist in his own way
A kind of poet with his brain
His world was either beautiful or it was waste
Either in his castle gleaming
Or underneath it somewhere screaming
He was a connoisseur of morals
With all his rules typed up in print
And every lick and limb
Touched by his blessed lips
Was somehow sanctioned just as it was stained
With his paint
He had a masterpiece in mind
But wasn't quite sure of her name
And every move he'd make
Lead him to that fairytale
As long as she was his and his to tell
His characters were precious marble
The scenery resembled chess
And he was the artist the captain of the boat
The puppet master king of every coat
With his paint
Good little boys sometimes grow up to be preachers
And good little girls listen well
While those men starch their collars
And teach the world what's right
Our little girls are painted in the night
He was an artist of one color
His palette only painted clouds
They stormed and they glistened
With every touch
Until I craved his weather all too much
Chained and bound to the canvas
His audience can't see my eyes
But they swoon and they fall for
Every stroke he makes
Of me
He's the artist you see
With his paint
With his paint