I’ll paint you a picture
I’ll paint it with a twist
I’ll paint it with a razor
I’ll paint it on my wrist
Now my arms are blooded
So blooded and torn
Those are broken feelings
Drippin on the floor
Then one day I’ll have had enough
But then theres on more twist
On that day I’ll love to say
The picture won’t be on my wrist
But on my throat
Perhaps of a boat
So I can sail away
It’ll be bright red and dripping wet
Oh that’ll be the day
All these things I’ve told you
Are my lifes little fixtures
But here upon my blooded wrist
I’ve painted you a picture.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem