Blue is not your color

Mom painted shirts she made them blue

On the front and the back too

I was not there I read a book,

Mom did not know just where to look

That shirt of blue was turning black

On the front and on the back.

She took it off, then took a look

Inside the very holy book

The book was clear when it was read

The shirt I wore inside my head

It was not blue any more

The book was like an open door

Christs blood for me also ran clear

The words to us, so very dear

Words are read they don’t need paint

You can learn just like a saint