[Just Write]

Hi, my name Is Bobby, I used to live in apartment ten
Everyones said i was remarkable with a marker or pen.
I'd never been to art school, but that changed starting in June,
I was a college student now, Supported by an artistic new group.
At this school they specialised in selecting types who were naturally gifted
And housed a faculty shifted to maximize our passions tradition.
So whether a rendition of a masterpiece, or drawing an actual image
They'd teach us techniques to help advance our natural precision.
I was getting pretty good too , I learned how to master contrast & light,
And if your shading is right, you can almost capture it's life.
I'd been practicing nights, though often i wasn't even awake
The mornings were strange, In the corner sat a portrait in paint.
At first I thought someone was playing a game, either Jordan or James
Those were my roomates and to be truthful they were sort of insane!
Anyways i gave it no thought. Just tossed it in a box to lay with the others
And put it in the back of the closet underneath some papers and covers.


But this particular day was different, I discover something crazy about me
It happened in class while I was chatting with a kid named Ralphie.
He started talking about this accident that happened last week,
A school bus went over a cliff and killed a couple of teens.
For some reason it seemed familiar, i just didnt know why,
Then it hit me, the box! I had seen it inside,
I rushed home & opened it up, found the picture & looked at the back of it
I couldn't believe it, it was dated a week before the accident.
Could this really be happening? I flipped through the rest of the paintings
And discovered I predicted the future on numerous occasions.
There was one with a horses. A big "V", roses and a 1st place ribbon
weeks later a thoroughbred won the golden cup, her name was "Vixen"
A picture of a child, cold abandoned, freezing in pain..
...The same boy on the news they found diseased in the lake.
Such a shame, If only I'd known before about my secret skill
I could have stopped so many incidents, & people from being killed.


Over the next few weeks it grew stronger, & I couldnt control it at all
I'd wake to drawings that covered my ceilings and everyone of my walls
Whatever the cause. I hated it, felt anger, and was losing my patience
I mean what good is it to know the future if you can't even change it.
I tried throwing away my art supplies. Figured THAT would solve my problem
the next morning I woke to find food coloring and a candle in a pot dissoving
Seemed there was no resolving the fact that I was cursed with this "gift"
All I could think is "there has to be a purpose." I was certain of it
I was so determined to quit, I isolated myself & didnt see the news
Appears Since my walls were full I had ventured onto the streets too.
A reporter had said how it must had taken a genius to draw it so quick
And raved how it was so realistic, especially the bombs and the wick
If I had seen the news, mom would have never called me crying later that week
Or told me about my 8 year old sister playing with fire crackers out in the street
What she thought was a pickle-o pete, turned out to a block of dynomite
And I sealed her fate just past my sidewalk with chalk that night...