my true color isnt mixed

my true color doesnt sound like this

my true color isnt definite

they say my true color doesnt really fit...in

my true color never sits

sometimes my true color really isnt for the kids

my true colors kinda different

naw my true color isnt innocent




so Here it is a white paper in my hand

lime greens sky blues with a color coded plan

When I grow up ima be this man

who i colored like this with a brown crayon

Ima paint this picture like they said

draw me with a tower of that green colored bread

crayola a friend who would fool ya

making life blueprints that dont even exist

I took a nap woke up in elementary
lookin back its kinda documentary
only remeberin it in black and white
and some gray memories black pavement and bullies
the hoodies and aqua blue tears shed
thank god never wounds painted over red
just yellow bus's and throw back brown bag lunches
just a simple color scheme to paint me a real life scene

Then I blinked and the colors got agressive
red with my dad dead and a mess very hard to supress
theres nothing u can say cuz tragedy has no colors to describe depressed
better yet whats the best color now in my
best hue to wash over white with a god damn frown
I kept this color on for the rest of highschool
i kept my eyes open painting with a better view

Heres the same white paper in my hand
and here I am the paint brush replaces the crayon
except the white papers smudged and erased
and replaced with a reaslistic face
the piles of money that i drew wen i was young
wasnt money that i owned it was money for a loan
the last school id attend
help me to paint life truthful
not always rendered beautiful

So now I drink cups of blue on occasion
no green so a day off becomes vacation
and every dream colored secondary
with no room they become tertiary dreams

this job everyday a never ending primary color
with a color necessary jus to paint it gold
but the lemons that i hold that I knew that I drew they were all painted blue too