Crimson red with a dash of white
Sherry paints the falling leaves outside
Let me watch
From a distant room
All the light pours in
Through the window frame
It’s a shame -- all those tired
Hours while she slaves away

Mom pretends to leave her be
But she sees everything
Sherry sighs and hides her piece
All the while, the refrigerator remains
Empty

Well, your masterpiece ain’t good
But you couldn’t see what I could
Every stroke has a part of you that leaves
Impressions on the canvas and a stain upon the wooden frame

But I know we can be giants
We can wish on the dandelions
In the field where we played as kids
The ones who knew the simple joys in life