Can you tell me please
What color are the trees?
What color is love?
The blue of the skies above?
The angels falling with their ephemeral wings
The golden joy that heaven brings?
The white-hot gates at the helms of hell
The sound of Black Death ringing his bell?
The color of the wind blowing through my hair
The lonely hew of the beggar mans glare?
Blind justice standing in a courtyard of sleet
A broken puppet without any feet?
The sweat of a panther resting in the brush
An artic fox feeling winters rush?
The ice-hot hate of a soldiers rage
The parchment of a book on a brand new page?
What color is malice? What color is joy?
What color is a mothers love in her baby boy?
This side is white, this side is black
The area of greys where everything seems to lack
The spectrum of the soul cant be analyzed
This beauty of the world seems to rush right by our eyes
A man stands in front of a painting with his nose touching the mirage
But he is blind to the art in front of his visage
The old maid hobbles along her garden fence
Looking for the time that she has lost hence
A broken pocket watch sits on the table
Ignored by the sleeping shop keep in his stable
The drowsy watchman rings the final chime
The grumbling village people complaining they havent any time
The prince rushes to find everyone sleeping a hundred years
Only to collapse in a pool of tears
His princess is late and hastening slow
She is old and decrepit, her winters sleep slow
This but only a snatch of the race
Of life sprinting at a breakneck pace
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