now when the paint jar tipped off the table, I watched as it started to fall.
glass pot, shattered and splattered, the paint spray hit the wall.
bright, blue, glossy enamel, across the kitchen floor,
you said, good god, look at that pattern, I've never seen that before.

leave it like it is, never mind the turpentine.
you just, leave it like it is, it's fine.

and when the paint dried, you gave it a title, you called it "kitchen blue".
a white frame, painted around it, and gallery lighting too.
rich folks come over at dinner, they all want one of their own.
they say, how much, who is the artist, and, my what a beautiful home.

leave it like it is, never mind the turpentine.
you just, leave it like it is, it's fine.

most folks suffer in sorrow, thinking they're just no good.
they don't match the magazine models, as close as they think they should.
they live just like a paint-by-numbers, the teacher would be impressed.
a lifetime of follow-the-line, so it's just like all of the rest.

leave it like it is, never mind the turpentine.
you just, leave it like it is, it's fine.