An open letter to Frazee:
Your paint's hide is that of pee.
By the time I'm done, bald will I be
from tearing out my hair, you see.
I'm afraid that after seven coats
your paint will not be winning votes
from any pros, anywhere -
because of you, they have no hair.
Where has your Titanium Dioxide gone?
Why, oh why do I feel like a pawn
of a large corporation who just doesn't care
whether or not my head becomes bare?
This is it - the very last time
that I will be guilty of the crime
of penning an absolutely awful rhyme
to say your paint's not worth a dime.