The Child in The Painting

There's a child in the painting In the bushes, in the glen There's a child in the painting By the howling river bend. There's a child lost and waiting For a world where words prevail For a whisper of a hero Somewhere far beyond the veil. If you listen you can hear him You can hear the soft despair If you listen you can hear him Share his lonely little prayer... Is the night sky really empty? Are my only friends the grass? Is this frame my frame forever? Can a whisper break through glass? There's a child in the painting In the hallway of your home There's a child in the painting But his name is still unknown. There's a way for you to reach him If your heart can lead the way To the place where words are woven Through the walls that won't decay. And if he listens he will hear you He will hear it in the air He will follow in the footsteps Of your angelescent prayer... No, the night sky isn't empty. There are whispers unconfined But the only way to reach them Is to leave your world behind. There's a child in the painting Who can sense the drifts of time There's a child in the painting With a cunning sense of rhyme. There's a child in the painting With a face hard to define But if I had to guess this instant Then I'd guess his face were mine. And I'd guess his name were my name And his hands were my hands too Then I'd sigh myself a silver sigh And sing this song to you... When the night sky's seeming empty When forever lasts too long Just remember someone's watching Who's been with you all along.