The Painter

I'm not a writer, I just work in paint
Painting it over until it's too late
In red and white letters they're starting to show
And teach me a lesson I already know

All that I own is clean
Except for what I'm wearing
I know that it is a ridiculous craft
To stick forks in the toaster and sit in the bath

Underfoot the whole world is shaking
And sometimes it feels like a big waste of time
But once in a while your whole world is shaken
A yellow light on a busless horizon

Lightning red wine and a mug full of tea
EL just a girl from a party
Every so often I'm driven to write
And float on the air like a childless kite