You can't paint black and not get black,
No matter how hard you try.
You may paint with care, but the stains are there,
And stay when the paint is dry.
You can't fool around where the sinner's found,
Make friends of the foolish kind.
But it leaves some taint, like the mark of paint
On your heart or your soul or your mind.
You may say you can, and you may think you can,
That you'll keep your own hands clean,
But it leaves a mark that is deep and dark,
A mark that you have not seen,
For sin is a thing that will always cling,
Though you only meant to play;
It will leave some stain on the heart or brain
That is hard to wash away.
You can't paint black and not get black
You can't fool around with sin,
It will leave its trace on the human face,
Its mark on the soul within.
By the words you use and the friends you choose,
You are made for the years to be;
You may think they'll not, but they'll leave a blot,
For the rest of the world to see.