Painty

There was a painted man, Who walked a painted mile, And on his painted face, Was a painted smile. He wore a painted coat, Along with painted boots, And for his painted breakfast He ate un-painted fruits. He had a painting job, Was a piece of painted art, And when the people paid to paint him He played the painted part. After the painted walk, Back to his painted room, He fell into a painted sleep And then a painted tomb.