La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
The naked dutch painter in the kitchen does not want to fuck you
She's got seventeen boyfriends
And an eight o'clock class to get to
She's smoking hash all night
With some coffee amaretto
She's asking stupid questions 'bout my groovy black ghetto
And the naked dutch painter in the kitchen does not want to fuck you
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
The naked dutch painter in your bed does not want to sleep with you
She just feels like being naked
You don't think that you can take with her next to you
She says "gandhi used to sleep between two naked women"
But you're not the mahatma
That's a whole 'nother religion
And the naked dutch painter in the bed does not want to sleep with you
The naked dutch painter in the morning does not want to need you
She missed her eight o'clock class
'Cause she couldn't get her ass up off of you
So you walk along the rhine and jump back in the sack
If this is how they do it then you're never going back
And the naked dutch painter in the morning does not want to need you
Talking 'bout the naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
The naked dutch painter in the gallery does not want to love you
She's throwing flouresecent paint
Accompanied by a mingus tape that she stole from you
It's performace art porno under trippy black light
She left with her professor
He can stretch her canvas tight
And the naked dutch painter in the gallery does not want to love you
The naked dutch painter in his arms does not want to see you
You are drunk and you are sore
You busted down professor's door
Yet he feels for you
So a wicked joint is rolled
And it mellows out your head
But you're not feeling too bold when he invites you into bed
While the naked dutch painter in his arms does not want to see you
(Ha ha)
Talking 'bout the naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la
So now you're on your own in a freezing pay phone around daybreak
You're feeling so shitty that you're calling culver city just to bellyache
But there's nobody home
Except your answering machine
So you write a stupid poem about the freaky shit you've seen
Like the naked dutch painter in the morning sky who hovers above you
The naked dutch at your door says she finally loves you
But she said "i'll see you later" when she saw another naked painter sitting in the kitchen with you
Well she seemed a little shattered then she got a little pissed
When she saw that you were flattered by the fact that you'd be missed
While the naked dutch at your door says...
(Ha ha)
Talking 'bout the naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter
(Da de da da doo da da doo)
The naked dutch painter
The naked dutch painter