Magenta and Reds, Cerulean and Blues Piano paint splashes the mind of the fool And makes him create, mostly mistakes When trying to illustrate his own point of view
Hopeless and Danceless, Broken Old Romantic Wooden chair rocks him like a cradle for his ashes And time doesnβt wait, for him only it fades Stuck on the wake of waves perpetually crashing
Black Holes and Stars, Landmarks for Gods He just sits and he orbits like a moon for his heart Passing the days, a face for a frame Symphony of flowers contrasting his rain