Your words are heard in grey
Going round through the days
Scattered amongst the monotonous buzz
In time that repeats itself in a rut
Where are the words that turn white
In the emptiness we see as life
As the world is stained by filthy colors
Will my existence too, turn dark?
If the present were a mirror
Of the tomorrow we could rewrite
In myself, will I find the answer
To paint myself in white?
GT
Going round through the days
Scattered amongst the monotonous buzz
In time that repeats itself in a rut
Where are the words that turn white
In the emptiness we see as life
As the world is stained by filthy colors
Will my existence too, turn dark?
If the present were a mirror
Of the tomorrow we could rewrite
In myself, will I find the answer
To paint myself in white?
GT

