Don't Forget Whose Legs You're On

The painted faces congregate
In the mating season
The second hopes
They go alone
In [bad word] to leave 'em
And there's a fountain
And a scimitar
Shaped yellow light
That picks you up
And cuts you down to size

The people there
And the furniture
Start to seem important
And a whole lot more
You catch the floor
With a vivid and absortant sharpened arc
Like the scimitar
Shaped yellow light
That picks you up
And cuts you down to size

I had questions for the tap dancer
Sat on my lap
And she had child proof caps on her answers
Stolen blower blow me a scone
And show me that handsome enhancer
She had a rock on her throttle
And a brown glass bottle full of
Shavings from the sun
Although those shoes affect your step
Dont forget whose legs you're on

There's a fountain and a scimitar
Shaped yellow light
That picks you up
That cuts you down to size