We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
/

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

  • Buy the Full Digital Album

lyrics

Music and lyrics by Brian Wright {Suspension Bridge Publishing, ASCAP}

I met the last of the great painters
Selling grass in Central Park
He painted all he was afraid of
'Til all the world was art
And he's a brilliant conversationalist
His topics ranging near and far
From the price of tea in China
To the fastest foreign cars
He knows a lot about the cars

But he doesn't have a license
Doesn't leave the neighborhood
He doesn't quite know where his wife is
But he hopes she's doing good
She ran off to south of Sante Fe
With some hippie throwing copper
That was seven years ago today
Well, he heard she had a daughter
Well, he heard she had a daughter

Oughta send her something nice he thought
A book, a piece of jewelry
But he don't know what she likes
And he thinks her name is Julie
Partially and mostly right
For her name is Julianna
Probably pretty, probably shy
Probably gets it from her momma
She had a real good looking momma

Not a single day goes by,
He doesn't think of her and wonder,
Why she up and left him for some turquoise wearing sculptor
But she always liked a dry heat
She was raised in Arizona
It's a hundred ninety-five degrees
At seven in the morning

Doo do doo, do doo doo, doo do do, doo doo do
I was walking through the park
Trying to score a joint or two

I was probably lying when I said I was a singer,
Said he saw it in my eyes I was just an in-betweener
Never stood up to a giant
Never seen the Mona Lisa
Never said nothing so defiant, so that anyone'd believe it
No one's gonna believe it

Well he hasn't touched a brush
In long enough he could still wield it
Saw a lot of things he'd like to paint
But, he never could quite feel it
And I've felt the same of song
When there was no one there to listen
But, it never was for them
No, it never was for them
No, it never was for anyone but me

He said, I am not a wise man
But I know you are mistaken
Cause art is only yours
Until the second you create it
And I may have had a wife once
And I may have been a painter
But, right now I got these bags man
And they're fifty bucks an eighth
That's the going rate
So, I thought I'd pick one up for ya

Doo do doo, do do doo, do do doo, do do doo
I was walking throught the park
And I was on my way to see ya

credits

from Bluebird, released December 28, 2015

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Brian Wright image

Brian Wright Nashville, Tennessee

contact / help

Contact Brian Wright

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Brian Wright, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Fabiana Palladino stops by to talk about her mesmeric debut LP.
listen now