My little boy kneelin' by his bed,
Hands folded, sayin' his prayers.
Talkin' to God, man to man:
He don't know that I'm there.
That's a picture I'd like to frame.
That's a picture only God can paint.
That's the kind of beauty no camera can capture:
That's a picture.
My daughter sittin' in her high chair,
Ravioli all over her face.
I stand an' stare at her innocence:
I don't see the mess that she made.
That's a picture I'd like to frame.
That's a picture only God can paint.
That's the kind of beauty no camera can capture:
Yeah, that's a picture.
I've seen snapshots of sunsets that take everyone's breath,
An postcards of Paris in the spring.
No paper or canva** compares what happens,
To my heart in moments like these.
My perfect angel, her hair all up,
Blastin' at her radio.
She'd a-died if she knew I saw her,
Dancin' while she folded the clothes.
That's a picture I'd like to frame.
That's a picture only God can paint.
That's the kind of beauty no camera can capture:
Yeah, that's a picture.
Oh, what a picture.
That's a picture.