Picasso Don't Got **** on Me

This is my first post, I usually write poetry, so I am not positive if these can, or should be transformed into lyrics for a song. Constructive criticism welcomed.

Picasso Don’t Got **** On Me

I am a painter, using my palm as a pallet
Social fabrications intertwine themselves around my paintbrush
I illustrate the countryside using post cards from relatives as references
carefully painting the sky a variety of muted reds and oranges
so as to fulfill the dreams of tourists enjoying the fruits of a third world country
turning a blind eye to sheet metal shacks
aiming their viewfinder at the white sand beaches and palm trees

In order to paint the flag pins on politicians lapels
I use the smallest brush I can find, his name is Republindopendemocrat
He speaks to me in an elegant language known as “Bullshit”
Which, despite its name is a very beautiful language
have you no dictionary, you’ll think the genocide of millions of people quite reasonable

I use the same rose colored wash
on every church,temple,and mosque
but to no avail, the sheep that flock to these buildings are colorblind
shouting “Hallelujah” to the excommunication of
Homosexuals, Drinkers, Pot smokers, Unbaptized children
And myself,

I am a world weaving factory worker who lassos stars on Hollywood Boulevard
And tosses them into the night sky, reuniting them with their egos.
I am a Treehugging Stockbroker who plants trees over the corpses of Sudanese children
And hopes the rain will help the trees grow until leaves will eventually cover their faces
I am a sports-playing drug abuser who refuses to kick the habit into the goal
And instead shoots up in the bathroom stall of kindergartens across the world

But above all I am a Thinker, the greatest of all sins
My sin is stepping outside that box, which happens to be perpetually growing
Being imaginative is not allowed
My next painting must be in 12 point extra bold font, double spaced and follow the MLA format

I feel like theres way too much info and not in a small area for lyrics, i took out some redundancy and got this, but this is just what you wrote with some erasures to better fit a song.

I am a painter, using my palm as a pallet
Social fabrications intertwine around my brush
I illustrate the countryside using cards from relatives
carefully painting the sky muted reds and oranges
to fulfill the tourists enjoying a third world country
turning a blind eye to sheet metal shacks
aiming their view at the white sand beaches

the second section is kick *** by the way.