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Paint it blacker
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Plan B (uk)
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1
Oi! Oi! what you fucking doing?
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That's my car mate,
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Seriously stop doing that man.
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Oi! Come on that's my car bro.
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Right, give me that fucking can, give me that fucking brush you cunt,
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Give me that fucking can.
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Oi! Come back here.
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Once upon a time there was a guy called Mick
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Who was walking down the street one day and just switched.
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So many pretty colours made him sick,
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So he bought a can of paint and a brush to paint blick
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All the whips that he passed that were parked on the street,
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And all the front doors on the yards full of peeps, all the cars and the jeeps
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That were black, he leaves
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The paint in his can
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For the reds and the greens
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And the ones in between, like purple and brown.
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You could paint on them straight, not circle around.
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He weren't happy till he saw them blacked out,
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Had a look on his eyes like he was cracked out,
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Looking macked out with a trench coat and his back slouched,
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Paint black out, and leave everything as black now,
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Not leaving even one stone unturned.
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He remember shit turns black when it burns, so he burns
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All the leaves and the trees in the park
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That are marked with "I was here and so was Mark" inside a heart,
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Engraved by kids bunking school in the park, young love,
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They thought they'd be together for eternity,
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But the flame went out like these burning trees
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That are now the colour Mick wants to see:
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Charcoal Black with a capital B.
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I see a red door and I want it painted black,
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No colours anymore I want them to turn black.
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I see the girls walk by dressed in their Summer clothes,
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I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
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Mick sees the girls walk by in the Summer clothes,
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For a split second his darkness goes,
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But it ain't long till he's back in his darkest mould
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And the darkness grows,
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He turns his head back,
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So he can paint black the red rose,
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He snatched from the bush that is black
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"˜Cause he painted that with a brush in his hand.
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And the paint in his can that is now on the van,
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Eight cars and two jeeps that are parked on the street,
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And all the front doors in the yard full of peeps.
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A dead green seagull by his feet that is turning blue
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Makes him weep,
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Tears start streaming down his cheek
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As they fall from his chin onto the beak
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Of the bird that is laying in the gutter of the street,
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By the kerb.
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Something's going on, something deep and absurd inside of Mick's head:
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Why does he care so much?
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Give a shit that it's dead? I guess we'll never know
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What's up with this tortured soul,
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Painting shit black
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As he turns a dead seagull that from front to back.
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No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue.
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I could not foresee this thing happening to you.
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Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts.
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It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black.
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Everything is black now,
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Even the dogs and the cats now:
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Dogs bark, cats miaow.
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But Mick just won't back down,
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He wants to paint the city
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And everything inside it,
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All the girls that are looking pretty
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And all the men that tried it
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with them. If he had his way he'd paint the whole of bricks
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And he's sick in the head, ain't nothing gonna calm him down,
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Motherfucker's gone barmy now.
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The only thing that could stop him is the army now,
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Take away his paint can and disarm him now.
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Hold on, wait, said he was calming down
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Looking at something sticking out the ground
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In the cemetery,
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Underneath a tree that he just didn't see before
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Or
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Maybe he saw it
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Before but just ignored it.
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Anyhow, now he's walking towards it,
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Minus the can and a brush "˜cause as soon as he saw it
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He dropped that shit in a rush man, all of it.
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"˜Cause he was so in awe of it
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So in awe of this hefty new grave
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Engraved with the name Ruby Tuesday,
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A natural beauty, no Oil of Ulay needed to make it shine like a new day,
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But not today
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"˜Cause she's dead,
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Laying in a hole in the floor instead
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Being alive and looking live and red.
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From what guys have said
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Being live in bed
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And alive at head.
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Holy shit! What the fuck?
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Mick's eyes are full of tears,
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Head looks like it's gonna bust. He sees a bus and starts to rush towards it
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Past the line of hearses in the street
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On the way to put somebody six feet deep
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In the dirt.
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He wishes it was him, can't deal with the hurt
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Even when he jacks up "˜cause the drugs don't work
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They just make it worse
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And time is something that he can't reverse.
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So he looks at the Sun then runs towards it
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Straight into the road,
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Where on the 58 bus, the driver's floored it, "˜cause he don't know
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Mick's about to come out of nowhere
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So when he hits Mick it's all over so their left lying on the floor
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As a tortured soul bre's
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Body all tortured up but no soul there.
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I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
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With flowers and my love both never to come back.
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If I look hard enough into the setting sun,
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My love will laugh with me before the morning comes.
Plan B - She Said
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