White for the holy dove,

for purity and for silence.

Blood money, jazz and blues;

the perfect shade of violet.

A silver lining on every casket, 

on every cloud in the sky.

Blue for your crystals,

In your veins and in your eyes.

Red for blood-stained roses,

for velvet ultraviolence.

Pensive like a symphony

of broken violins.

Distant like the sunlight,

so wavering and warm.

Old flames grow dim,

in the calm before the storm.

Cold, gray and grim 

like the storm's aftermath.

Smoldering like hymns, 

in psalms and photographs.

Ethereal and prismatic,

my heart is made of glass.

Evanescent is this spectrum;

the colors never last.

The rain comes at last,

it runs strong and fast,

in rivers and in streams.

The pain comes in waves,

the paint won't stay, 

we part at our seams.

Paper planes in the sky

can't change the forces

of the weather.

Paper boats in the sea 

can't change the courses

of the tides.

Bleach will eventually fade

the black dye from leather.

No white lie can last forever,

for true love is colorblind.