God’s a painter, painting everyone
Watching out for every little detail,
Paying attention to every little thing
God’s a writer, writing down our everything
He never misses out to write down a thing
Sits on His throne to write, while Seraphims clap their wings
I’m God’s very first work of kitsch
After me angels had to take Benadryl
Cause their eyes were teary, noses would drip
I’m God’s very first unplanned story
He writes me when He’s bored, with nothing much to do
When the night sky is clear, and when angels sing blues
God’s a dancer, slow dances around the Heaven
He does it right after my story breaks at eleven
God’s a singer, sings songs written in stone
He looks down on me and all my sins
Maybe He gets proud for all my wins
Watches me fall down by the night
God’s an artist, but He doesn’t need some silence
Plays some music when I seek Him for guidance
Puts our prayers on the loop
As He very casually checks out His paintings across the room
Re-paints if we say anything is wrong
Or He lets it stay, because He knows the best
Or at least that’s what I was told
God’s a critic, looks down on my work
As He does to everyone on this world
But I always feel a little extra observed
Maybe He awaits for any lesson I’ll learn
Maybe He judges or He’s just concerned
Don’t know, never even understood
No matter how hard I try to
God made me an artist too
I feel like it’s a task on loose
Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 12:42 PM UTC
God’s a painter, painting everyone
Watching out for every little detail,
Paying attention to every little thing
God’s a writer, writing down our everything
He never misses out to write down a thing
Sits on His throne to write, while Seraphims clap their wings
I’m God’s very first work of kitsch
After me angels had to take Benadryl
Cause their eyes were teary, noses would drip
I’m God’s very first unplanned story
He writes me when He’s bored, with nothing much to do
When the night sky is clear, and when angels sing blues
God’s a dancer, slow dances around the Heaven
He does it right after my story breaks at eleven
God’s a singer, sings songs written in stone
He looks down on me and all my sins
Maybe He gets proud for all my wins
Watches me fall down by the night
God’s an artist, but He doesn’t need some silence
Plays some music when I seek Him for guidance
Puts our prayers on the loop
As He very casually checks out His paintings across the room
Re-paints if we say anything is wrong
Or He lets it stay, because He knows the best
Or at least that’s what I was told
God’s a critic, looks down on my work
As He does to everyone on this world
But I always feel a little extra observed
Maybe He awaits for any lesson I’ll learn
Maybe He judges or He’s just concerned
Don’t know, never even understood
No matter how hard I try to
God made me an artist too
I feel like it’s a task on loose
