The spectrum of my eye sees this one color
perhaps if I smile it would be less duller

But I can't help but to sink into a sadness of this color when I see the rain drops on an easy Sunday morning
With the drips and drops against my windowsill that outlooks to the dreary city

Busy people passing, stepping over puddles
The gloomy clouds over cast my apartment

and I still wonder, if the sun is still shinning where ever you may be
because it's certainy not in my eyes