I want to paint.

I want to paint the rough winter wind in a snow covered forest.

I want to paint ice cold icicles hanging on a colossal Cliffside.

I want to paint the local Christmas tree towering over the ant-like humans.

I want to paint the cold wind drifting out of warm-blooded Williams’s cold mouth.

Verse 2

I want to paint flowers blossoming as fast as a bullet, in the heaven-like field.

I want to paint a wonderful oak tree growing as quick as a flash

I want to paint a wonderful group of cows nibbling on grass at a wonderful green field.

I want to paint a cricket pitch cover in morning dew

Verse 3

I want to paint the beautiful seaside view with the sun reflecting of the crystal clear water

I want to paint the sun beaming on the trees in brindle lodge.

I want to paint the sun reflecting on the Loch Ness

I want to paint the sun melting a deluxe ice cream at Lytham beach