The Paint-box Man

There’s a man who lives inside
A branded paint-box.
And although the paint brush is too high
For him to reach the top,
Every morning just before
The sun peeps out his head,
He prises up the lid and goes
Softly with each tread.

Paint-box man,
Why do you paint the world so blue
Take your colours back with you
Into –
Your paint-box man,
Why do you paint the sky so high,
Your colours cannot cry
But we can.
Paint-box man.

His strokes are real tiny
But really really fast.
And although he knows only too well
That his paint just will not last.
He will run over his white canvas
With his blue and red and black
And touch up the twilight
But by dawn he will be back.

Paint-box man,
Why do you paint the world so blue
Take your colours back with you
Into –
Your paint-box man,
Why do you paint the sky so high,
Your colours cannot cry
But we can.
Paint-box man.

His paint-box is filled to the brim
With all the colours that he needs.
And when he thinks he is running out
He fills it up with all our greed.
His colours are beautiful –
But in places empty, say
When he paints the outside with all the colours that he has
Why inside he paints us grey…

Paint-box man,
Why do you paint the world so blue
Take your colours back with you
Into –
Your paint-box man,
Why do you paint the sky so high,
Your colours cannot cry
But we can.
Paint-box man.