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My art school babe with your palette-knives and brushes, |
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Painted face, Egyptian eye-brows and bright red lips |
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Pale white make-up, tight black skirts like Juliette Greco |
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And there's me quoting pretentious chat up lines |
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From Marcel Proust, Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre |
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Sitting by a gasfire in a drafty bedsit |
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The art school babe quotes William Blake and she rolls a joint |
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And I think "Oh oh, I've scored", start to make myself at home |
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But the room starts moving as she starts to get me stoned |
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I close my eyes and give in, the room goes in a spin |
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My lips are dry, I wander around with a ridiculous grin |
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I grovel on the floor, I think "Yeah I think I can make her" |
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Then I wake up and realize I've been kissing the refrigerator |
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Art school chaps with creative grand illusions |
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My sketch pad at the ready, my eager charcoal in my hand |
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Boring the world for hours with political theories |
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Just to impress anyone who listens while my art school babe |
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Just puts another inch of make-up on her face |
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And she says to me: |
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"Arty farty, you'll never fool your Auntie |
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Who knew you when you picked your nose and wet your pants" |
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How did she know that? |
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Arty farty, I try to throw a party |
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To impress my peers I struck a creative stance |
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Art school cat, ah, I was really on a mission |
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I made my play for my art school babe |
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By humming jazz tunes with words by Furlinghetti |
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I thought I was ever so cool, |
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But I was really such an obvious, pretentious, irritating little fool |
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For my art school babe |
