It's a chilly Florentine evening Two men in evening hats Telling tales of the underground and fishing for Reds Policemen armed with Uzis stand guard but they don't speak Ain't seen no Michaeangelo he'll be here next week. The girl in the shoes with the crystal heels went chaperoned by her brother They raise a glass of amber wine take pictures of each other of the policemen in the fountains and the sickle and the hammer and they came with Uncle Romulus with his walking cane and camera She looked like someone's girlfriend she looked like a dream she looked as unlikely as the people's limousine. Come and sit by me, girl, before I breathe the breath out of you Hush your mouth and cover your eyes for I'll tell your father of you He paid to have you painted in the company of angels Only to find you flirting anew with Chico Marx and perverted Engels The patron saint of television smiles down from the shelf Romulus can't criticize but he can't bless himself He has a tin of pea-green paint and a big roll of black tape To vandalize these obscenities then make his escape She walked up to the nice policeman and asked him for a match He saw Romulus approaching and slipped off the safety catch Then cut down her uncle, he was painted red and green Just as she was kidnapped in the people's limousine.
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