Story Behind The Song
My father was an artist, but an enigma in that, while ultra-sensitive to scenes, studies, people posing for portraits, he was unable to see those closest to him in a real sense - especially my mother and me, his only daughter. He was of a type and generation that put women - quite unfairly - on pedestals, which tried to keep them in a mold that never fit.
Song Description
The misconceptions that occur between fathers and daughters - despite their devotion to each other.
| Song Length |
5:07 |
Genre |
Folk - Contemporary, Unique - Unclassified |
| Tempo |
Slow (71 - 90) |
Lead Vocal |
Female Vocal |
| Mood |
Poignant |
Subject |
Father, Daughter |
| Language |
English |
Era |
2000 and later |
Lyrics
Fathers & Daughters
© 2006 by J. E. Ambrose
There's a picture hidden far away in a dark and empty room:
a figure walking down the beach heading out towards the dunes.
He said that he had me in mind as the colour filled her hair.
As gestures go, it was love, I know, but I cannot find me there.
(chorus)
Mix me in paint, brush me on paper,
Frame me in lies for your own heart to see.
I was your vision, your vestal beauty,
your shining duty, your 'anything but me'.
There's a picture in a silver frame: a man with a dreamer's eyes.
He gave me so much more than a name and a mystery besides.
He set his world in black and white, though he held rainbows in his hands.
And my own shades were blues and grays he could never understand.
(chorus)
Mix me in paint, brush me on paper,
Frame me in lies for your pure heart to see.
I was your last kiss, your one and only,
your Sleeping Beauty, your 'anything but me'.
(bridge)
Was it always truth or dare? Faces change beyond compare.
Portraits are never fair for fathers and daughters.
How desire changes lines; eyes can't see when hearts are blind.
Love never runs on time for fathers and daughters.
There are pictures all around me now - memories walking home:
changes he could not conceive and a world that left him cold.
Yet still I feel his hand in mine as I walk this chosen road.
The strength I thought was his I find is mine and mine alone.
(chorus)
Mix me in paint, Brush me on paper,
Frame me in lies For your sweet heart to see.
You were my first word and my last teardrop.
My gentle jailer: you were everything to me.
Mix me in paint And brush me away
Fix me and frame me Mix me in paint
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