The Unsigned Painting

Rickie Lee Jones

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 could always smell them cooking
in the 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
and Mamma's eyes are blue
and Father took the Weird Beast
and we're walking next to you

That is the picture that I see
That is the picture that I see.