• My hands are a mess,
    I'm cleaning them at best.
    The water won't go down,
    and for some reason it's brown...
    Carrie's screaming Joyce on the phone,
    while Joyce's hands are cold to the bone.
    Why does the water smell like mold?
    I'll suck it up and be bold!
    The paint is clogging up the sink.
    The water has turned from brown to pink.
    There's paint on my face, there's paint on my hands.
    I swear to god, painting in this house will be banned.
    This poem is crappy we will admit,
    but we'll forget that and just press submit...