Whatever shall I do
with my pinks and my blues
while the sun on the sea is like fire.

I'll while away
for a year and a day
with gestures that ne'er seem to tire.

For to give of oneself,
one's soul and all wealth,
is reputed to be most noble.

But covered in paint
I see all that I ain't
and it's then that I feel most in trouble.

For a life incomplete
is bound to repeat
while pursuing a pathway to riches.

And what you will find
if you pay it some mind
is that life is best lived in the ditches.