The "Painter"

You're a lot older than me, man. You're a lot wiser, too Oh, I like your mustache, daddy Won't you give me a tattoo You offer me rum and coke. Well, I'd never turn that down Take me up to the top of the hill. Talk circles round and round He's a painter, he tells me, with ink-stained hands He's a lover, he tells me, but he won't take off my pants He's a man, he tells me, well, whatever suits your best He has drawn out my body, but left red paint across my chest He sold his art and he made the paper in China and Japan And people say he's a troublemaker. I'd say I'm a bit of a fan He's kind, but a bit of a freak. He says I have a pretty face Time to go, I'll see you next week. Let's hope I don't get replaced He's a painter, he tells me, with ink-stained hands He's a lover, he tells me, but he won't take off my pants He's a man, he tells me, well, whatever suits your best He has drawn out my body, but left red paint across my chest He's a painter, he tells me, with ink-stained hands He's a lover, he tells me, but he won't take off my pants He's a man, he tells me, well, whatever suits your best He has drawn out my body, but left red paint across my chest