Polka Dot Rose - Oysterhead

He always liked to paint with his sunglasses on Cause acrylics tend to burn on his eyes

And nothing brought him closer to the canvas

Than the warmth of Eleanor’s thighs

He never had much of a devious nature

But was hardly a modern day saint

If you asked the little boy what he’d be when he grew up Said I’d rather be a fireman than paint

Keep on painting

She always liked to dance with no shoes on Cause the gravel felt good on her toes

And Mr. Merriweather left his wife and his kids

In search of a polka dot rose

They never thought much of his mongrelesque stature

Or the scent that could make a buzzard faint

If you asked the little boy what he’d be when he grew up He’d say

Keep on painting