Black Doesn't Lack

I hear so often that white is right, And if not, go with red, instead. I hear a barrage about camouflage, It should be green or blood will be shed. I am forced to make a tough choice between blue and turquoise And I hear style gets a boon from a dash of maroon. I’m told by every Yenta, “to just try on magenta.” Yet, the styles go quickly, so I look like a buffoon. But black doesn’t lack, just put it on a plaque. It’s just the right color for me. I end up looking like a clown in dusty old brown. And I can’t stand the sight of capri. They say, “Hey, who’s that fellow wearing that grimy yellow?” Then I’m in a bad mood, for this insult, so crude. I go home and weep and then my heart takes a leap. I see a color with a contrast that’s rude. The overuse of pink has gone way past the brink. The benefits of gray, are just hearsay. There was never a pleasant hue of that ever-present blue. And the appeal of teal is one that will decay. But black doesn’t lack, and it’s mirac- ulous that we have never seen its beauty as a fact. So don’t wait for someone’s death, wear it ‘til your final breath. Black doesn’t lack, black doesn’t lack, Black never ever could lack.