She's got everything she needs,
She's an artist, she don't look back.
She can take the dark out of the nighttime
And paint the daytime black.
You will start out standing
Proud to steal her anything she sees.
But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole
Down upon your knees.
She never stumbles,
She's got no place to fall.
She's nobody's child,
The Law can't touch her at all.
She wears an Egyptian ring
That sparkles before she speaks.
She's a hypnotist collector,
You are a walking antique.
Bow down to her on Sunday,
Salute her when her birthday comes.
For Halloween give her a trumpet
And for Christmas, buy her a drum
Saturday, September 20, 2008
There was a party downstairs last night as Tess - who introduced the Bomber to art - is shutting up shop and leaving the Mills. I gave her a copy of Bringing It All Back Home, as a going away present, track 2 seeming curiously apposite; Egyptian ring wearin', paint slingin', globe trottin' vagabond that she is.
at 9:00 am