She’s cunning with her bag of art
She’s out there writing something about me
Don’t add to your darlings
Mornings are dark, dear

Replacing cogs
Filled dim bulbs
Switched out carried over dirt

The sound of your chains
Gives you away
When she cries only numbers come out
And she screams it’s only numbers

Your house going over
Day 2 and we’re on our way back too

She’s cunning with her bag of art
She’s out there writing something about me
Don’t add to your darlings
Mornings are dark, dear

┬ęCopyright Secret Life of Painters
Words & music by Hofmann / Kiley/ Zell