People would call me a fool for him
Yet nothing could take me away from my love
He, my painter and muse, who never waivered
Faithfully sipping red wine to the jazzy melodies
He'd sit there and say to me,

"Tell me another story my Rose
Sing to me something sweet and take off my clothes
And when it's all over, kiss me good bye and float to the moon
Don't come back down till the 4th of June"