Under the blue moon where the mountains are see through
Dance gypsy dance gypsy dance gypsy dance, Nobody frees you and nobody pleases you, Please won't you dance with me Dance gypsy dance.
I'm just a painter who paints what he sees As he leans on the bark of a whistling tree You're lazy and shifting with towering dreams And a heart made of gold you've washed out in these streams, Your face is the wind, With the clouds hanging over, Your eyes that have filled up with space Your senses are scattered like five fingers floating In search for the palm of your hand that I'm holding
Nowhere's your homeland, your everyone's guest With the grace that just lasts you a week Which is all that I have with my oil lamp and canvas Before I'm forever and ever asleep
I'm just a painter who paints what he sees With my oil lamp and canvas and slow disease You'll be twenty angels in flight in the breeze As you circle my body that fades through these leaves....