Painting pictures with my toes
Waiting for someone who never shows
Why is the window always closed
If I had it my way who knows
Creeping through the cracks in the wall
Place my hands down in the snow
Waiting for someone to tell me no
Why does the sun always come out slow
If I was with god I would know
If it was a red rubber ball
Bite my tongue and pull my clothes
Why does the moon always come so close
Just when I thought it was skin and bone
I can hear you on my telephone
I can hear the voices in the hall
Pair my hands and dive right into heaven
Why does the painting never stick
Finding that I was alone and sick
If only I could paint on the wall
I'd wake up in pastures of green