The blue it speaks so full.
It's like a beauty one can barely stand.
Or too much things dropped in your hand.
And there's a green like the peace in your heart, sometimes.
Painted underneath the sheets of ashy snow.
And there's a blue like where the urban angels go, very bright.
Now the Calder mobile tips a biomorphic sphere.
Then it swings its dangling pieces round to other paintings here.
Your behavior is so male.
It's like you can't explain yourself to me.
I think I'll ask Renoir to tea.
For his flowers are as real as they are, all the time.
And the sunlight sets the furniture aglow.
It's a pleasant time as far as people go, how far do they go?
Well his roses are perfect and his words have no wings.
I know what he can give me and I like to know these things.
I met her at the funeral.
She said I don't know what he meant to me.
I just know he affected me.
An effect not unlike his art, I believe.
The service starts and we are in the know.
He had so much to say and more to show, and ain't that true of life?
So we weep for a person who lived at great cost.
And we barely knew his powers till we sensed what we had lost.
A friend and I in a museum room.
She says, "Look at Mark Rothko's side.
Did you know about his suicide?
Some folks were born with a foot in the grave, but not me, of course."
And she smiles as if to say we're in the know.
Then she names a coffee place where we can go, uptown.
Now the painting is desperate, but the crowds wash away.
In a world of kind pedestrians who've seen enough today.
Mark Rothko Song Lyrics performed by Dar Williams are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Mark Rothko Song Lyrics performed by Dar Williams is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD