The colours are not colours. This must be a shock, For what are they if they are not colours? Well, colours are only colours when hit by the right light at the right moment, But even then we all see them differently The night is evidence of this You look at a colour upon the light And all you see is its representation A beautifully hand-crafted lie Somebody crafted these colours into it, Magnificently sure... But if you look upon this colour Once the black of the night has fallen And drained away the world You will see Not pretty, bright red's and blue's of innocence But the black's and grey's of life No matter how hard you can look The colours will have changed, Twisted and morfed into something unrecognisable. A lie This is the true truth of a colour ...It is a lie One designed to lighten and highten And to create the fear of truth A concoction of the human world, Wrought to fool and impress To impose and to play Playing a game that they themselves don't understand One of tricks and illusions One to keep you up all night writing Simple things with lying words Everything is a lie, Hell, even a lie is a lie Because when Earth is no longer fit for mankind The sun stops spinning And the understand of anything We mere humans have accomplished to comprehend Is gone This is when everything will be nothing There will be no nothings to interpret Not even a few measley words Strewn together with mace and lace They will amount to nothing, And yet, The colours. Stop to see the colours The same ones That lie in wait for the light To jump and give you a fright For one day When the night view is never ending You wont have the glory of being fooled or illuded And that is the greatest part of life That life does not really matter So why not see what's not really there While we still can