He painted you at first ghostly

As you turned whiter and pale

You would say, “What for?”

He replied, “I canvas the truth!”

As he wandered through the palette

Skipping from one color to another

Your soul would be doing cartwheels

“I need Dramamine, I am rather sick!”

The room seemed to grow smaller

As the ceiling started to spin and spin

“Waiter, bring me some Pepto Bismol”

“I am no longer feeling in the pink!”

So The Amazing Mr. Ziing created a scene

Your inhibitions were portrayed accurately

Like doing mouth-to-mouth with cardboard

And you thought your past was squeaky clean.

Somehow you conveniently misplaced your sins

Seemed to slip right through your unwashed hands

Then you crashed-dived right onto the canvas

Drowning in a sea of colors hitting rock bottom.

Your oiled signature resembled a portrait of Dorian Gray

In truth it was similar to starring down the barrel of a .45

Suitable for framing – please hang it with a noose

It is a reminder to get a grip and move in a better direction.

Ó2009 R. Lance Sheridan