i can see the finish in my mind's eye
brace my self and i'm ready to try
it looks good and firm in the tin
so why is it all so runny and thin
and in such a bloody rush
to constantly fall off my brush
just as wifey walks on through
as she tends to make such a to do
paint on my hands and in my hair
bloody paint nearly everywhere
except of course where it's meant to be
it's on my feet it's on my knees
it's on me more and more and more
than the place it's intended for
i step back to admire a door
step in a drip and spread it more
don't realise until looking back
i can see my guilty tracks
is it too much to ask just once i mean
that i can surreptitiously get it clean
before all my pride sinks to nought
gosh she swears when i get caught
i really do have to sadly confess
i don't so much paint as make a mess
if the good lord needs new hells for us all
just make me paint doors and walls
but give me please just a few seconds with the boss
of the firm that invented non drip gloss
