There's something there in Williamson's Garage I think it's me trying to start a fire With autumn leaves and gasoline The flames leapt up to bite my sleeves It's only a painting But not too pretty a picture Into my home, a real native boy Full-blooded brave, a kind of show 'n tell I showed him off to my Great-Aunt He told me off to my white face It's only a painting But not to pretty a picture There it hangs on the wall A thousand words I know them all The frozen bird, a hockey puck Shed tears, move on to Van Gogh Murder of crows gathered on the power lines Murdering crows, The Blue Max will be mine To bring them down I take my aim Then I reload and shoot again It's only a painting But not to pretty a picture And there it hangs on the wall A thousand words I know them all The frozen bird, a hockey puck Shed tears, move on to Van Gogh Move on to Van Gogh Move on to Van Gogh