He sees the world in colours
His father sees in black and white
In shades of grey, they get along
He doesn't have the heart to fight

His paintings hang on white walls
His father never did understand.
The world he sees in a canvas
Does not fit his father’s plan

He walks around his perfect house
With all the money and an empty soul
His office chair waits for the morning
His paintings make him whole

He mixes his sorrows with his colours
He paints his desolation
His brush traces the distance between
Where he is and his elation

He pours himself into his art
His every stroke precise and smooth
He transcends this world of pain and sorrow
Into his painting he does elude

He leaves his woes and frustrations
His heart races with delight
He sees his colours come to life
As he paints into the night

Tomorrow he’ll wear his fancy suit
Tomorrow he’ll follow his father’s plan
Tonight he holds his freedom tight
Tonight his is his own man.