Cigarettes in the night keep me going
Sometimes I act as if that were true
Maybe occasionally for a varied feeling
A false sense of relaxation?
Maybe along with a short cup of wine
A distorted feel of elegance?
The red wine surely does bleed the sense
The sense of extravagance to burst new colors
New colors into a recently black and white life
Such a perception that is so false
As if putting makeup on a corpse
Colors mean nothing without a palette
A palette to mix and match
Certain humans come along
With their self-approved elegance
To give fruitful advice to the artist
" But black and white are colors too"
Incorrect fair human
White is the presence of color
While black is the lack of
Even though my world gets smaller
It takes no shape without love
My palette is empty
My thoughts are yearning
Regardless my wine remains plenty
And my cigarette remains burning