Painting

aint no color paint gonna cover the stains

the pictures on the wall will all remain

and even though he's home now sound and safe

surrounded by the faces that he places faith

the images visit from the past he witnessed

cant stay away from the memory

sticks with each detail embeded in stone

like he chisels those convictions into his bones

the progress stops and pauses

spits and sputters like the basment faucet

and its obvious hes lost in his regrets

you can smell it on his breath

aint no color paint gonna cover the stains

but now the alcohol is gonna mother the pain

tuck it away no complaints

just layin on his back on his backyard under the rain

take tomorrow but doesnt know how though

for ever swallow theres another to follow

he weaves his way throughout the story

looking for a new missing piece or a door key

spirits used to be for celebration

but now they just take him away from the hell thats waitin

re-up until its three sheets up

and pick a place for the skeletons to meet up

aint no color paint gonna cover the stains

but if the oxygen escapes it'll smother the flames

no introduction doesnt speak his own name

gonna beat them demons at they own game

the sunset rides to the end slopes

same song echoing outside of the window

you cant grow if the skin dont fit you

sometimes you gotta get low just to get through

no inspiration left to do your best when

no one hates you more than your reflection

suffer the shame until it stuffs the drain

he's got two hands and a bucket of paint