I wasn't here to dress in grey only,
it just made my skin look so ******* good
I've closeted five feet of violet velvet
and maybe it belongs there, in the dark

I watched colours move like courage on their shirts
and had to try it too, you couldn't blame me
who wouldn't force taffeta over their arms
after watching it kiss and reflect the sky's
smile, cut-crash on its back like lucidity

On me, however, it just sat plainly
it was the motion of their bodies underneath
that'd brought beauty
what a grand illusion
what a waste of time

New continents call me but I don't answer
all hues clash with a heart black and white
I know grey and what comes after
the foreign taste of day after night