*(Verse 1)* These hands are worn, but they hold the sun, Stained with battles that can’t be won. The colors bleed where dreams collide, Every stroke’s a secret, every smudge a tide. They’ve traced the faces of ghosts and gods, Carved out the beauty from the flawed. These trembling fingers, they shape the void, Turning silence into something destroyed. *(Chorus)* Oh, the artist’s hands, they carry the weight, Of a world undone, of love and fate. Painted prayers on canvas skies, They build a truth that never lies. *(Verse 2)* They’ve been cut by sorrow, burned by fire, Guided by hunger, fueled by desire. The knuckles crack like breaking dawn, Yet the work remains long after they’re gone. Each line’s a hymn, each crease a scar, Maps to places both near and far. They tremble when love falls apart, But steady as steel when holding art. *(Chorus)* Oh, the artist’s hands, they carry the weight, Of a world undone, of love and fate. Painted prayers on canvas skies, They build a truth that never lies. *(Bridge)* These hands don’t speak, but they sing in the dark, They find their rhythm, they strike their spark. Born from the dirt, reaching for grace, They paint the soul on an endless face. *(Verse 3)* When the easel’s bare and the room is still, The hands remember; they always will. They ache for the colors, they long for the fight, For the whispers of shadow, for the kiss of light. *(Chorus)* Oh, the artist’s hands, they carry the weight, Of a world undone, of love and fate. Painted prayers on canvas skies, They build a truth that never lies. *(Outro)* So let them rest, these hands of stone, For every masterpiece stands alone. But in the cracks, in the paint that lands, Lives the story of the artist’s hands.
