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Well, she's kind of like an artist |
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Sittin' on the floor |
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Never finishes, she abandons |
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Never shows a soul |
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And she's kind of like a movie |
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Everyone rushes to see |
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And no one understands it |
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Sittin' in their seats |
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She opens her mouth to speak and |
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What comes out's a mystery |
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Thought about, not understood |
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She's achin' to be |
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Well, she dances alone in nightclubs |
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Every other day of the week |
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People look right through her |
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Baby doll, check your cheek |
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And she's kind of like a poet |
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Who finds it hard to speak |
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Poems come so slowly |
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Like the colors down a sheet |
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She opens her mouth to speak and |
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What comes out's a mystery |
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Thought about, not understood |
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She's achin' to be |
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I've been achin' for a while now, friend |
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I've been achin' hard for years |
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Well, she's kind of like an artist |
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Who uses paints no more |
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You never show me what you're doing |
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Never show a soul |
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Well, I saw one of your pictures |
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There was nothin' that |
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I could see |
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If no one's on your canvas |
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Well, I'm achin' to be |
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She closes her mouth to speak and |
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And closes her eyes to see |
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Thought about and only loved |
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She's achin' to be, just like me |
