She tried the fiery reds like love, hearts and the end of cigarettes Like the sun rising on a brand new day But she's tried too much and they've become a cold, sad grey
Like an elephant who remembers acquaintances from the past revisiting their graves like an old iconoclast
She once tried all of the blues Tight ripped jeans and salty rivers for a lover, their eyes the same hue She even tried to swim out into the ocean spray But she's tried too much and they've become a bleak, empty grey
Like the clouds of a storm on the Fourth of July ******* the joy from explosions in the sky
She confided at times in the colors brown The pitch of her own eyes, of sand and her old hometown She tried to sculpt her feelings in clay But she's tried too much and they've become a dry, calloused grey
Like stones of a castle built to keep others out She's locked away in her tower with a head full of doubt
I hear that, these days, she dabbles in black Like emptiness, nightmares, and crooked witch hats Not unlike the swan in the ballet But at least this is one color that will never turn grey