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Jul 2015
Red lives, No Technicolour.
Red lives, No Technicolour.
Why am I,
Why am I sighing?

Old bowls empty of cereal,
Curtains made of see-through material.
Why am I,
Why am I crying?

Red lives, No Technicolour.
Red lives, No Technicolour.
Why am I,
Why am I dying.

Just me and a cube in the corner,
A rooted tube of squalor.
Why am I,
Why am I not flying.

Red lives, No Technicolour.
Red lives, No Technicolour.
Why am I here,
Why am I here lying.
Declan Mills
Written by
Declan Mills  Dublin
(Dublin)   
343
   Kelley A Vinal
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