Most of my life has been spent painting pictures in a song
though I was never good at Art&Design;,
so I resign myself to drawing words and colouring phrases with a ball point pen and
a weary head, that never should've got out of bed.

And I don't care what you want to be,
in the centre of the circle everybody wanted something from you; like an old teddybear
being ripped at the seams- no buttons to keep you together, only being torn apart like
a philosophical discussion about the creation of man. Pining for cosmic resolution and a reason to be.
You said you wanted that reason to be me.

I'll make you see the world tonight, make sense of the unknown. Learn how to grow old and be satisfied. How to grow, just grow. Know right from left to wrong and sing a different song.

'cause this city was built on fear and testimonies of the ignorant plaguing stubborn minds.
Manipulators lead the gullible ashtray, the weak remain same. No ones left to suffer the blame.
Hands clap as people riot in the street, echoes of the innocent stuck on repeat.

Yet you speak of harmonies and riches. You talk and your voice it's beautiful sound travels through the channels of my eager ears, wanders like a river with subtle grace and ripples of intonation, the mid-range pitch keep it from rising out of the banks of my thoughtless mouth.
And I count myself lucky as I gaze at the aimless faces rather there than here,
their body language gives nothing away, let's nothing in as if they're standing in a windless orchard in their minds. Whereas yours in perfection of a kind.
The poetry of your face is enigmatic yet I feel if I look closer I could easily understand.

The aimless faces try to draw you near but you ignore their cries;
for bribery is vain to try against incorruptible eyes. Although they were trying to warn you.
Their wires went unanswered. The bridges remain unbuilt. Now trouble is coming!
'cause you rested all your hopes on my thoughtless mouth and mishapened heart.

Your words- the beauty of your voice flows through the channels of my ears, wandering like a river, bubbling with your wishes and pain. My mouth is buckled, is buckled with fear.
Can I give you everything you're after?
Give you myself and more? Oh how I want to.

I want to .  .  .  .

'Cause this life was built out of rejection. Humour as a mechanism
of defence, a pretence that I'm strong, able. In fact quite capable of not destroying
everything in my path. My successes came out of needing to prove to them and myself that
I wasn't beaten down.
I have substance and I'm beginning to feel free,
like a bird in an unlocked cage.

LOVE comes from all sources and I don't care what you want to be, as long as you're good to me.
Try to understand where I'm coming from and keep surprising me , like you do.
We can sing the same old song, so long as my pictures colour in your heart.

Colour you in.