| There's a noise upstairs in the attic | |
| It's the shuffle of worn out shoes | |
| And the scent of the oil and brushes | |
| Drifts down like a pale perfume | |
| And he says, "i.. | |
| I am a man | |
| A simple man | |
| ...A man of colours | |
| And I can see | |
| See through the years | |
| Years of a man | |
| ...A man of colours" | |
| And the old man rubs his failing eyes | |
| And takes a moment to watch the view | |
| From a window nobody knows is there | |
| He can see the empty street below | |
| [Chorus] | |
| He says, "i keep my life in this paintbox | |
| I keep your face in these picture frames | |
| And when I speak to this faded canvas it tells me | |
| I have no need for words anyway..." | |
| [Chorus] | |
| And he says, "i.. | |
| I am a man | |
| A simple man | |
| ...A man of colours | |
| And I can see | |
| See through the tears | |
| Tears of a man | |
| ...A man of colours" | |
| > |