The things you can do
With just a pen
And some paper

I put the art into artifice
I am the ultimate
Faker

My hands are steady
My eyesight sharp
As a razor

The great Mona Lisa
And still no one can
Duplicate her

Like I can
Oh, I am the man
The great interloper
Look a bit closer you'll see
It's me
Little me

My work in this cellar
Is not unlike
So many parlours

Where young ladies sit
And sip tea with their
Unruly fathers

Pretty and plucked
In petticoats
Men with collars

See how much grander
The world gets
When you make your dollars

Like I do
Oh, I'm no fool
It's never too late
But the profits too great to change
My ways
Crime pays

But babe I think it takes a toll
On this hungry little soul
Every time you turn to go

And babe if you get on that train
My heart will never beat again
There's so little truth here left to bend
The truth is not my friend
My friend

I am not crude
Raucous or rude
Like the others

A bit more refined
With a pragmatic mind
I've my druthers

To peel off this skin
Begin again
With another

Take the high road to fame
Where the love in my brain
Starts to stutter

Here I am
O the promised land
Plasticene Roses
Another heart closes
And then . . .

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