The blankness of the paper seems so very nice
Clear blank ivory that a single black could ruin
An itch crawls up your rolled up sleeve
What to draw, what to doodle
What to write, what to pity
A nice blank ink pen resting on your fingers
Jet black ink that glimmers when it pours
A twitch runs through your fingernails
What to scribble, what to mark
What to rant, what to cry
A nice blank sheet with a nice clear pen
Two new things that seem to blend
But when they start to dance and twirl to their song
The song you sung when your times were low
Crying and bawling to this self imposed song
So personal so deep
RANT IT OUT SCREAM IT OUT
And when their dance comes to a stop
You'll now have a nice piece of art
To nail to your prison door
