Acomist
I would go out tonight
Your life is a black canvas.
All you have is black paint, the negatives, but you've forgotten how to apply them. They sit next to you in multiplying bottles but all you can do is stare at the white paint, the price tag of happiness, an emotion you can apply but can't afford. You think Cathy used to paint in yellow and whites till Martin turned black and blue under the ice and now it's all those bad colours.
If your life was interesting you'd create a masterpiece. You can imagine it now; the colours of your friends and the colour of coffee skies and those lovely pets and those green eyed strangers on trains who could smile like a model at you and forgot you at their stop. You could paint it all.
But all you have is black, and you can't paint in black.
You are nothing.
All you have is black paint, the negatives, but you've forgotten how to apply them. They sit next to you in multiplying bottles but all you can do is stare at the white paint, the price tag of happiness, an emotion you can apply but can't afford. You think Cathy used to paint in yellow and whites till Martin turned black and blue under the ice and now it's all those bad colours.
If your life was interesting you'd create a masterpiece. You can imagine it now; the colours of your friends and the colour of coffee skies and those lovely pets and those green eyed strangers on trains who could smile like a model at you and forgot you at their stop. You could paint it all.
But all you have is black, and you can't paint in black.
You are nothing.