Painted

So honey, smile, smile
Come on along I’ll tell you what to do
These young kids are just so volatile
They do it like their pappy taught them to

We got a son, won’t you get up and stand up
Feels good where I’ll be down
All they all want to do is procreate, syncopate
Listen to the words that come out my mouth

You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head

How could I live to see the painted people
Disgust, but I still love it, what to do?
I smile along, they set me on an easel
I’ll stare at space so they can paint me too

They paint me with no rhythm or reason
So I'm not so ugly as sin
I can't tell you what they're painting
Look at the pretty shit out here

You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head

Oooh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oooh
Oooh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oooh
Ahhh, ah-ah, ah-ah, ahhh
Ahhh, ah-ah, ah-ah, ahhh

You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head
You’ve got to drain your head