The painted faces congregate in the mating season.
To second homes they go alone, in no rush to leave ’em.
And there’s a fountain and a scimitar shaped yellow light,
It picks you up and cuts you down to size.
The people there,
The furniture start to seem important,
A moment more and you catch the floor with a vivid and absorbant
Sharpened arc, like the scimitar shaped yellow light,
That picks you up and cuts you down to size.
I had questions for the tap dancer sat on my lap,
And she had childproof caps on her answers.
Stone blower, blow me a stone
And show me that handsome enhancer.
She had a rock on her throttle
And a brown glass bottle full of
Shavings from the sun.
Although those shoes affect your step, don’t forget,
Whose legs you’re on.
There’s a fountain and a scimitar shaped yellow light,
And it picks you up and cuts you down to size.