It's the weight I'm trying to get inside the frame I've been painting a fat man He's big and fat and heavy As a man can be But he's been floating away, floating away He's been floating away from me In the mirror my withering skin is a thorny pleasure I stand unflinching and I mark each crease and sting My brush, my wooden flail My ancient thresher As unforgiving time flays everything It's the truth I'm trying to get inside the frame Now I'm painting myself naked But I need a pair of boots about as heavy as boots can be Or I'd be floating away, floating away I'd be floating away from me And every thorn sends thistledown Drifting all around And floating away, floating away Floating away from me