Masters In China

You've always been bashful, you're just that way

But your eyes are like billboards, they give you away

Your mouth is a trumpet, somebody else plays

Long after the notes gone, the tone usually stays

And your chest a fine pillow, with lining of feather

Your hair is a family, with strands stick together

Fingers are keys from the grandest piano, played by a line that the Lord only knew

A tongue of an angel, floats in red wine saliva

Your teeth ravel porclein, made by masters in China

Your face can't be captured by pictures or words

And your voice is a music that I've never heard

And your skin is a cream, dipped out beyond measure

Your nose is a pink color touched by the weather

Your fingers are keys from the grandest piano

Played by a soul that the Lord only knows

Ooh...