Chartreuse streets bend like Cezanne's hills
Light and color dignify time
You are grace confused
Her purple tower with vines of blue
Climb your steeple for the last time
Death has sad diamonds
Decorate your grave like a gallery
She dances with her past
You're rich but never left home
Armor from the Dutch Masters
Goya was as cynical as Orwell
Realism has no future
Science fiction with rose high heels
Hope is very creative
Ships sail into my dreams
We meet on a island without fear
You teach me to mix watercolors
I watch you paint like a girl
Like the most beautiful woman in the world
Happiness is an easel by a bright window
Beautiful wild flowers so colorful by a castle
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