| Well she’s kind of like an artist
|
| Sittin' on the floor
|
| Never finishes, she abandons
|
| Never shows a soul
|
| And she’s kind of like a movie
|
| Everyone rushes to see
|
| And no one understands it Sittin' in their seats
|
| She opens her mouth to speak and
|
| What comes out’s a mystery
|
| Thought about, not understood
|
| She’s achin' to be Well she dances alone in nightclubs
|
| Every other day of the week
|
| People look right through her
|
| Baby doll, check your cheek
|
| And she’s kind of like a poet
|
| Who finds it hard to speak
|
| Poems come so slowly
|
| Like the colors down a sheet
|
| She opens her mouth to speak and
|
| What comes out’s a mystery
|
| Thought about, not understood
|
| She’s achin' to be
|
| I’ve been achin' for a while now, friend
|
| I’ve been achin' hard for years
|
| Well she’s kind of like an artist
|
| Who uses paints no more
|
| You never show me what you’re doing
|
| Never show a soul
|
| Well, I saw one of your pictures
|
| There was nothin' that I could see
|
| If no one’s on your canvas
|
| Well, I’m achin' to be She closes her mouth to speak and
|
| Closes her eyes to see
|
| Thought about an' only loved
|
| She’s achin' to be Just like me |