I will become a Polly Jean
I will start throwing kerosene
and living in a dream

I'll grow my hair to twice my size
and keep journals and fantasize
(oh when oh when will I leave my town
when will I wear the gypsy crown?)

I want to get out in a vagabond cart
and transform my life into incarnate art
and fall in love twice with the same man
because he is the only person I can truly understand

Yes, I will become you, Polly Jean
I will be the next bohemian beauty queen
I will rip out my eyes and replace them with jewels
and make the world an offer
it simply cannot refuse

I'll make my bed fifty feet under the stars
and surround myself with broken people
playing on broken guitars
I will never look back again
I will spend my whole life wandering

I'll paint my face different every day
and discover new ways to take the pain away
in some papers or a needle or a pile of ashes
Polly Jean, I can't wait to see it as it crashes

Polly, I will paint you
like you are painted in my heart
Polly Jean, infinite
and never-ending art