In The Yellow House

Album cover art for "In The Yellow House" by Michael Franks

Michael Franks - Pop

In The Yellow House

2 Plays

Duration: 5:22

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Lyrics

No one knows the joy when you create By definition, something out of nothing Colors, canvas, light But Christ is the light pole The sunlight, Vincent, down in Arles You painted nudes, I painted flowers We drank that cloudy absinthe all night long And the women we loved were loose When we lived in the yellow house In the yellow house life was ideal By definition, something one imagines Painters, brothers, friеnds At least 'til the end camе Complete surprise, attack of rage A most peculiar place to shave In time our fine companionship went wrong But our pictures are living proof Of our life in the yellow house Ruined studio of the south Three short months in the yellow house I never knew that the malady was madness Neither did I, my friend, it sneaks up on you from behind I believed your condition had improved I was convinced that hard work and our friendship would cure me I was blind to your suffering, forgive me You always helped me when you could You did your best, at least you tried But not enough to distract you from the end A wheat field with crows and those cypresses in Starry Night You painting sunflowers is how I remember you Only my pistol can comfort this sadness tonight

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Credits

Writers
  • Michael Franks