Sunday in the Park with George

George,
 Why is it you always get to sit in the shade
 While I have to stand in the sun
 Hello, George
 There is someone in this dress
 
 A trickle of sweat
 The back of the head
 He always does this
 Now the foot is dead
 Sunday in the park with George
 One more Su--
 The collar is damp
 Beginning to pinch
 The bustle's slipping
 I won't budge one inch
 Who was at the zoo George
 Who was at the zoo
 The monkeys and who George
 The monkeys and who
 Don't move
 Artists are bizarre, fixed, cold
 That's you, George
 You're bizarre, fixed cold
 I like that in a man
 Fixed, cold
 God, it's hot up here
 Well, there are worse things
 Than staring at the water on a Sunday
 There are worse things
 Than staring at the water
 As you're posing for a picture
 Being painted by your lover
 In the middle of the summer
 On an island in the river on a Sunday
 ♪
 The petticoat's wet
 Which adds to the weight
 The sun is blinding
 All right, concentrate
 Eyes open please
 Sunday in the park with George
 Look out at the water, not at me
 Sunday in the park with George
 
 Well, if you want bread
 And respect
 And attention
 Not to say connection
 Modeling's no profession
 If you want instead when you're dead
 Some more public and more permanent expression
 Of affection
 You want a painter, poet, sculptor preferably
 Marble, granite, bronze
 That's durable forever
 All it has to be is good
 And George, you're good
 You're really good
 George's stroke is tender
 George's touch is pure
 Your eyes, George
 I love your eyes, George
 I love your beard, George
 I love your size, George
 But most, George, of all
 But most of all
 I love your painting
 I think I'm fainting
 ♪
 The tip of a stay
 Right under the tit
 No, don't give in
 Just lift the arm a bit
 Don't life the arm, please
 Sunday in the park with George
 The bustle high, please
 Not even a nod
 As if I were trees
 The ground could open
 He would still say "please"
 Never know with you George
 Who could know with you
 The others I knew George
 Before we get through
 I'll get to you too
 God I am so hot
 Well, there are worse things
 Than staring at the water on a Sunday
 There are worse things
 Than staring at the water
 As you're posing for a picture
 After sleeping on the ferry
 After getting up at seven
 To come over to an island
 In the middle of a river
 Half an hour from the city
 On a Sunday
 On a Sunday in the park with...
 Don't move the mouth
 (mouth shut) George!