Seventeen lanterns are burning tonight Isn't he aside? Sitting alone in his plush poison road In the blackest night With his fan seizing flied All his colours are bright And the canvas is white of the painter of women And the canvas is white of the painter of women Stood at disease with his brushes in hand He's in demand Everyone's heard how the site in his fingers Will guide his hand He is known through the land As the blind gentleman Yes he's the blind gentleman who's the painter of women He's the blind gentleman who's the painter of women Painting the faces where no faces are They are bizarre and lovely to see Selling to emperors, kings and queens Each of his dreams Each of his dreams He's always around With his love to be found And all the people surround him, the painter of women I see the people surround him, the painter of women All the people surround him, the painter of women