A painting on a wall

There is a smoke and a gift shop
Down by the muddy end of the road
An ocean that smells stronger than the cigar puffs
Accumulated in the thin air by those biker dudes
Two hundred twenty five BHP held on by those incredible tattoos
The leather, the whips and the chains
Horny girls with beach hair and all that beautiful cleavage
Surfboards, skates, short skirts and gorgeous legs
A slight disaggeragation makes room for another beauty
Not a real life depiction but created by one
There is a painting on the wall
An arch shaped entrance in a world of colours
I really cannot figure out what it wants to say
Don’t think I tried to find the meaning
It has an unusual color combination
Not flashy at all, not earthy at all
And yet it captures everything
Life, death, oxygen, water,
Real love, fake love, music,
Heaven, hell, hatred, greed, insanity,
“processed sanity”, lust, silence
Now I don’t mean to say the painting is talking about that
It just generates those feelings inside of me
Goosebumps pop up as I shiver with cold hitting wind
As I see the last flight of the sea birds for the post sunset evening
As I start to walk back home I am left with myself

Wonder what the painter went through when he painted that
Wonder what her bra size was
Wonder if there was a better cleavage than that
Or all good cleavages of more or less of equal temptation
Wonder how I am going to pay my long stock of bills
Wonder if Shreya has even mailed me the visa stuff or not
Wonder how complicated our lives are going to get
Wonder what kind of pleasures we are searching for

Wonder what kind of a paint brush the painter used
Wonder what his side of the story was
Is just a random mixture of colours
Or is it something that is so pure
That I can never interpret.