The Painted Hands Of Time:

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighty Sun,
All those really gorgeous days
We went barefooted just for fun.

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighty Moon,
All those cricket filled rendeezous
That were our nighttime honeymoons.

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighty Stars,
All those dot to dots in the sky
That were connected from afar.

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighty Rainbow,
All those chance little encounters
That made neon puddles for our toes.

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighy Cloud,
All those crazy little pictures
Our imagination said outloud.

There's a real beauty in the sky
And it's not the Mighty Snow,
All those precious little snowballs
That always stole the show.

There's a real beauty in the sky
That not an eyesight can see,
So I guess that's the reason
That some eyes just don't believe.

The Sun was painted by him
With a smooth brush stroke,
The golden shade of happiness
Who's color is no joke.

The Moon was painted by him
On one gloomy darkish night,
When his eyes were still sleepy
And needed very little light.

The Stars was painted by him
With brush strokes that are missing,
Alittle here and alittle there
Because his paint was dripping.

The Rainbows were painted by him
Our eye's fourth of July,
To dry up all those soggy messes
With neon tissues soaked in dyes.

The Clouds were painted by him
When God ran out of blue,
During the really tough times
You always keep pushing through.

The Snowballs were painted by him
To relax and have some fun,
For everyone that you toss
Is a stress bullet from your gun.

Only GOD is that true beauty
That Mighty Beauty in the sky,
The artist behind those pictures
That's always drawing the eyes.