There must be a golden frame
   Coming to me
   Cuz where are you?
   Where are you?
   Where are you?
  
   The very day when you first heard
   Your heart beat
   Listens for you still
   So I think
   it's not so much the painting
   As what you give yourself
   By what you leave
  
   Your signature...
  
   On Sundays the ladies
   Took off their wiry, old hats and
   Made donuts in the back of
   The church. I can
   Smell them cooking in middle of mass
  
   Cakes are prizes at carnivals
   Holding hands?that's a gift
   Of our landscapes
   For the heart is always
   That one summer night
   you stretch it from face to face
   Like chewing gum. You can rig it up
   And hear each other thru a tin can
   Now it bakes and hardens like an old
   Dream under the front porch
   Where the air is talcum
   Mamma's eyes are blue
   And Father took the weird beast
   We're walking next to you
  
   That is the picture that I see