What is behind an eye
A place where a fear resides
A love that stretches
Both far and wide

Far more than a place
To simply mask a lie
There's so many different eyes
So many bright and brilliant shining eyes

Does eye color somehow matter
Can blue eyes feel sadness sadder
The odds favor your eyes to be brown
Which are some of the nicest folks around

Or perhaps these descriptions are stereotypes
Because green-eyed people just love to fight
And eyes with freakish hues of silvers and blues
Can capture your heart and run you through

Yet from a common unfounded point of view
My eyes are hazel and a bit red too
In the perfect shadow of a wicked moon
They can appear a shade of handsome blue

But let me not lead your reading eyes astray
Hazel stands for slimy green goo turning grey
And the stereotype that fits us like any made up lie
That an iris could ever affect the person behind the eyes