When did he start to draw
Straw fingers
A drunken buffoon who only ever lingers
Sure, he attempted to sing, to dance
To grab the whole wide world’s hand
But this particular time he really seems to have sank his teeth in
Right from the charcoal beginning
Lines of hope thinning rather perfectly
‘Til steeled naturality takes utter precedence
And then, he begins to sell, sell, sell
‘Til red in the face
His mother, his daughter disgraced
For they always longed for him to fall into line with his own father’s occupation
Something of a preoccupation with getting it just right
Up all night, burning procedures
And now, they get to look up and see the prettiest illustration the world has ever seen
He took their hand

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