I have often heard the sky is blue and how the grass is green,
But I haven't got the slightest clue as to what that's supposed to mean,
No, I've only heard the stories of a sun shining bright.
You see, I was born into the dark, never to know the light.

I know birds by their songs and trees by their shade.
My fingers run for miles on hills artificially made,
Painting pictures in my mind of things I never knew,
Looking for some insight, searching for the truth. 

I have smelled the color purple, I have heard the color blue!
I have tasted green and yellow, and the combination of the two!
I can feel the color orange like the warm late summer breeze,
And the pale blue of the waters in winter when they freeze.

But all I see are the missing trees and those who make no sound,
Ghosts of my own making, look at what they're taking, never to be found.