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.