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There is something about the color gray.
Something about his eyes and that day
In that sunday I had my both feet of clay,
For I didn't want to be trapped in a bay,
My thoughts on a green plate I lay...
Someone said where there's will there's a way,
But I can't help myself to say,
That light will always bring more light,
And if he deserves my story and so - oye,
what can be more joyful than to play
with a stone and with a tone. I'll be the prey!
for I don't want all nights to pray,
for something that is nothing. I'll pay!
And only my hand knows that I may.
Oh! such weight, I scent a smell of spray
of spring of flowers and all in a tray,
but nothing's more beautiful than they.
The dancers are in love and they dance ballet,
I see the way they look and sway...
I wish I had more time to enjoy and stay.
My love for him it had led him astray,
everything I give, he always puts away,
every time I do this my life I betray,
with every hour I live, things decay.
If only time his train would delay,
I'd have the courage of my feelings to display.
Because everyday I started to write an essay
about the whistle of the clouds and of the fairway.
And my heart on wednesday I will never obey,
and I am fine when there's rain, I am ok.
the mountains and rivers I love to survey.
Now untenable I speak my way, today,
For we shall still be divided anyway,
So I'll wait for you when time breaks the day.
by Aeryn Sun
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