southern wire ends - the painter lyrics
if i were a painter
i used to paint all walls
i would have dropped my paint brush
despite the shadows fall
i would paint the world
’til everyone feels free
but then i’d look in my pot:
there’s no colour left for me
does this make me so different?
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
am i really lonesome?
that doesn‘t make some sense
everyone should thank me
for bringing this to an end
why helping hands are d+mned
to live their lives in mysteries?
got this feeling, quite intense
with kryptical philosophies
does this make me so different?
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
the world around is colourful all day
but my life is painted in grey scale
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
colour your own life
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