The ol’ blank canvas is waitin’ on a brush, Tubes of colored paint in matte and gloss. No happy accidents, no trees with their friends, World’s gone to hell ever since we lost Bob Ross. He’d whisper peace in the softest tone, Made a lonely heart feel less alone. He’d paint a stream where troubles wash, And we’d all breathe easy — thanks to Bob Ross. Where are the clouds that drift so free? The gentle calm on that old TV? We’ve got noise now, but at what cost Feels like the world lost love with Bob Ross. He showed us life’s just layer on layer, A little patience, a little prayer. T here’s beauty hid beneath the gloss, You just have to look — like Bob Ross. He’d smile and say, “Let’s paint a tree, Maybe it’s lonely, but it’s free.” And somehow that felt good to me, Like art could heal what we can’t see. Where are the skies that never fade? The happy places that he made? Now heaven’s gallery’s the boss — And angels paint beside Bob Ross. So if you find a brush tonight, And the world don’t seem quite right, Paint some peace for all that’s lost And sign it, “Love, from Bob Ross.”
