the painter

There's a girl we all know,

laying in the white snow.

She's different from the rest,

but she's trying her best.

She wants to fit in.

She wants to feel good in her skin.

At the time she wasn't.

And she still doesn't.

She wants to feel good.

She would if she could.

If only people knew,

what she would do.

The girl painted art,

she thought it'd be smart.

She bought her brush,

in a rush,

she ran back to her house,

and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.

So the girl began,

everything was going according to plan.

And when it was done,

she looked up to the sun.

The sun was gone,

so she got up from the white-blanketed lawn.

She looked down at the snow,

as it started to glow,

it glowed a dark red,

and it was starting to spread.

The girl washed it away,

with a salt-water spray,

that she had made,

while she was afraid.

A car pulled up and out came her dad,

he was dressed in plaid, and looked very mad.

He didn't even look at his daughter,

he passed her in silence to get some water.

That's the moment the girl knew,

what she hoped wasn't true, was indeed true.

No one would ever care,

and it wasn't fair.

If only people knew,

what she would do.

Do you think they would change?

Would they not be so strange?

No one knows,

there was something else she actually chose.

So I wanted to say goodbye,

I'll see you in the sky.