White on black on grey
Faces fade away
To golden hues of sunset dues
As the sky sells its painting to you
Loud on soft on sharp
Voices like a lark
Become a sound to sweet to hear
And too soft to trace by ear
Follow me, it says
Where no person ever goes
The wind picks you up and flops you down
And seeps into your soul
As fingertips grab your heart
Only to tear it to shreds as music plays
The sun dances fiercely slow
As it does ever so often these days
Grey on black on white
The stars become the light
As faces become a dot to dot
Of tiny somethings to far to spot
Sharp on soft on loud
Hold tight upon your cloud
Lest the night steal away your joy of the day
And your voice fails to give you away
Listen, listen, as you always do
For it would be a shame to break tradition
Every day at this time
You start to tuck the sun into bed
And end up chasing ghosts instead.