I feel bad for black sometimes,
It’s not a colour but a lack thereof.

Some wear it to mourn the dead,
Some wear it because they are intrigued,
Some wear it to follow the fashion head,
Some wear it out of need.

It’s the most controversial colour.
I think it’s confused,
Does it stand for impending doom?
Does it stand for ignorance?
Or,
Does it stand for the freedom of a race?
Does it stand for class?

It ***** in all the energy around,
Only taking, never giving.
Why does it do that though?
Why does it act like a sociopath?
Is it because the other colours don’t treat it right?

The others call it a colour,
Even though it’s not,
Even with the same classification,
It’s not one of them.

I wonder if it feels lonely?
Will its dilemma never end?
Will it always stand alone?
Or will it find a friend?

c’est incroyable qu'une ville
ne dort jamais, tout se que
je crois faire c'est rêver.

rough translation:
it's incredible that in a city
that never sleeps, all i seem
to do is dream.

Blood shot eyes and curbside appeal
dress me up to fake real,
Find me in your photograph and
i'm crying, while your laughing

I really do wish I could...
I wish I could cause I really would,
take you over, take you down
Then leave you.. southern bound.

Would it be better for us too,
to take the letter that life refused
to hold together the breaking news, I'll
do what you say so..
cause I'm a feeling that no body cares for.

Traumatized this is so unreal
laughing with the daffodils
making love where the king sat in
I'm turned on by your old fashion

I really do wish I could,
I wish I could cause I really would.
Turn you over, take you down
you ain't nothing but a blood hound

wouldn't it be better for us two,
to take the letter that life refused
to hold together the breaking news, I'll
do what you say so... cause I'm a feeling that no body cares for.

That's not a God, that's a sense of entitlement
A sugarcoated dishevelment in disguise
You don't have dreams, just infatuations
Turning hope into self-indulgent lies

I turned away from New York just to know you
Silver showered soldiers singing serene
I turned away from myself just to love you
But I don't think you know what love means

You're not alone, just afraid of isolation
Afraid no one will be better than me
I'm not that great, I say without hesitation
Someone will love you more, just wait and see

My opinion of you changes like the skyline
A star among the cascading dark
Baby, don't let yourself flame out
Before the rest of your fire starts

There’s something about the lonely hours,
Just you and me, our space overlapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.

No passion-filled debate, no vying powers,
Lazy destiny dreams, eschewing plans or mapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.

Past today, the future glowers,
But reserve this sacred instant for reflection, recapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.

The earth is straining, injustice towers,
Insidious corruption, pain and deceit chafing, chapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours.

The darkness consumes, seconds become hours,
Sorrow lurks at hand, irksome insecurities tapping.
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.

Yet, peace resounds, the evil cowers.
Hope, the thing with feathers, quietly, resiliently flapping.
There’s something about the lonely hours,
The sky a meadow, constellations, flowers.