My favourite colour, has long since been grey
But I didn't know why, until today
I envy grey, grey doesn't commit
Any strong emotion, well grey isn't it
Grey's not red anger, red hate, or  red love,
Blue sadness, yellow fury or perfection's white dove.
No, grey is nothing, no emotion, no pain,
no commitment, no dichotomies, I want that again.

The lines on my body
Creating a pattern that is my own
The lines on my body
That runs from my shoulders to my toes
The lines on my body
That I hate with all of my heart
But still will miss when they go away
The lines on my body
Created late at night when no one is awake but me and the stars
The lines on my body
Are slowly suffocating me

I don't care about what the signs show
I am never letting you go
In every city and every town
I am never letting you down
'Cause whatever it is that they say
I'm never going to walk away
oh but I can't help but see
That you're the only one good enough for me.

They were lovers don't you see. They ruled the kingdom of the skies with an iron fist of intimacy. Their pure passion washed over the kingdom like the grey-ish blue waves that violently crahsed over the rocky bottom of a treacherous cliff, one after another never stopping. They were dearly loved by all. Hated by few. Despised by one: Destiny.
Destiny had wounds too deep to penetrate with lust like theirs. Destiny had too thick of scabs to peel away with their tender hearts.
Destiny was too bitter to love at all and used her agony against the king and queen and over came their rule. She banished one to the skies and the other to the plains, doomed to never see each other again.
The plan was full-proof, she never had to deal with her own self wallowing pain, caused by their affection, and rather strive on their cries of reunion, but what Destiny didnt realize, the moon was very cunning like a snake of the forest, lying and manipulative. He made a deal with the devil.
The lord of the ground promised him his girl, if he could create a time of the day that everyone feared, and which his demons could roam freely. So he created night. Crowned king of his own creation the moon was granted his girl. Every night for twelve hours the two sing to each other, wishing again for the love they once had, traveling all of the lands, being chased by the sun, never resting; never landing. The moon and the wolf.

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.