My Many Shades of Magenta
I found myself in a crayon box
And then upon a pair of socks
I was once the color of a geranium
And they put me in an sanitarium
But when the good things came about
I seemed to always be left out
There’s not much of me in the sea
And in a rainbow I’ll never be
They confuse me with fuchsia a lot
What an insult from that I got
I guess I’ll have to be content
To be on a shirt of some quirky gent
Sometimes I sit around and pout
When I end up on a toe with gout
But the truth of the matter is to be
That there aren’t that many shades of me
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