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
©Copyright Secret Life of Painters
Words & music by Hofmann / Kiley/ Zell