Exhibit Of The Year

Where you when I said "You remind me of a portrait in a dream"?
So I'll say, "Cry, but your watercolors fade
This ain't science baby, it's called creativity"
If I move my hands right
If I move my hands right would you see yourself disappear?
I wash my filthy hands off
As your watercolors stain my fingers red and black
So, take my brushes off your portrait of a face
'Cause I will paint your smile into obscurity
Fill lips with black lines
Darken your smile
Layer paint upon paint until the words dry dead
Deep in your mouth, a desert's dry air
Layer pain upon paint like you were never there
Would you see yourself disappear
Like you were never there?