Here is a scale.
Weigh it out and you will find, easily,
More than sufficient doubt
That these colors, you see were picked in advance
By some careful hand with an absolute concept of beauty.
They are smeared
And these blurs
Come in random order
To color the eyes of your former lovers.
Hers were green like July,
Except when she cried they were red.
Now I know a disease that these doctors can't treat.
You contract it the day you accept
All you see is a mirror
And a mirror is all it can be.
A reflection of something we're missing.
And language just happened.
It was never planned.
And it's inadequate to describe
Where I am in the room of my house
Where the light has never been
Waiting for this day to end.
And these clocks keep unwinding
And completely ignore everything that we hate or adore.
Once the page of a calendar is turned it's no more.
So tell me then, what was it for?
Oh tell me, what was it for?