Dissipated dissolution
March of many colors
Turn it down to you
To blue
I hate to watch you walk away
To black
As though that's all that I can do

Demurred
Devolution
The cranes swing wide
The tillers in the field
Cut down the stocks
Separate all wheat
From chaff

Month of many colors
Red for all the blood I bleed
My fingers reaching still
And white
And how my eyes just open
And blue
Form the iris growing slowly

Dissonant
Delicate
The color is only empty
As far as I can see
All revolution
And the falling of the sun
The night