I think that graffiti is colourful but sad,
The way that it clings is ever so bad.
Its loud and bright colours attract the most evilist eyes,
But the wall underneath suffers from cheap terrible dyes.
Lucy walks up to it with concentration and power,
She scribbles and scribbles and out pops a flower.
She says that its art, but I disagree,
If she wanted a plane she should have planted a tree.
The chemical fumes are starting to blur my mind,
It's going into my head, I think I'm going blind.
