Blackhawk

My old friend lives up in the mountains
He flew up there to paint the world
He says even though interpretation's what I count on
This little picture to me seems blurred
Hard lines and the shadows come easy
I see it all just as clear as a bell
I just can't seem to set my easel to please me
I paint my heaven but it looks like hell
CHORUS:
Your blues might be grey, your less might be more
Repeat
Your window to the world might be your own front door
Your shiniest day might come in the middle of the night
That's just about right
He says that I ain't coming down till my picture is perfect
And all the wonders gone from my eye
Down through my hands and on to the canvas
Still like my vision but still a surprise
Real life, he says, is the hardest impression
It's always moving so I let it come through
That my friend you see is the glory of true independence
Just to do what you do what you do what you do
CHORUS
Progression 1
My old friend came down from the mountain
Progression 1
Without even looking he found a little truth
You can go through life with the greatest intentions
But you do what you do what you just gotta do
CHORUS