They give us a white paper
Tell us to paint a canvas
But what do we paint?
The darkness in our hearts?
The pain in our soul?
The demons in our heads?
So I paint it black
Then splash of red
They ask why that?
I respond "you said to paint our canvas"
People start to stare,
They start to talk
They ask "why is it black?"
And say "She's Weird"
To me it is the painting of
Struggle
As I look in the black
I can see it all clear
There's a story being told.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC
They give us a white paper
Tell us to paint a canvas
But what do we paint?
The darkness in our hearts?
The pain in our soul?
The demons in our heads?
So I paint it black
Then splash of red
They ask why that?
I respond "you said to paint our canvas"
People start to stare,
They start to talk
They ask "why is it black?"
And say "She's Weird"
To me it is the painting of
Struggle
As I look in the black
I can see it all clear
There's a story being told.
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