| Gray is not the color I expected
|
| On someone who is often touched by grace
|
| The eyes that hold the promise of perfection
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| Will find the flaw that no one can erase
|
| And though she hears the rumors of intention
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| And many times I’ve failed to hide my stare
|
| She will not breach a hint of indecision
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| She will not ever bend to show her care
|
| Things she said
|
| Every other daystore promise
|
| Things she said would leave me wanting
|
| Run to her, then run from other
|
| Things she said
|
| Broke me down and left me shattered
|
| Hard as diamonds, it does not matter
|
| Won’t remember the things she said
|
| Today I saw her face in all the papers
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| A smile to empty out a lion’s cage
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| But notes that might remind her what that smile was for
|
| Are scribbled on a long-forgotten page
|
| Things she said
|
| Every other daystore promise
|
| Things she said would leave me wanting
|
| Run to her, then run from other
|
| Things she said
|
| Broke me down and left me shattered
|
| Hard as diamonds, it does not matter
|
| Won’t remember the things she said
|
| The choice she never made |
| The face she never saved
|
| The words she would not say
|
| The lives she threw away
|
| And the things she said
|
| So gray is not the color I expected
|
| On one who is so often touched by grace
|
| But always she’s the specter of uncertainty
|
| I first endure, then pity, then embrace
|
| Things she said
|
| Every other daystore promise
|
| Things she said would leave me wanting
|
| Run to her, then run from other
|
| Things she said
|
| Broke me down and left me shattered
|
| Hard as diamonds, it does not matter
|
| Won’t remember the things she said
|
| Things she said
|
| Every other daystore promise
|
| Things she said would leave me wanting
|
| Run to her, then run from other
|
| Things she said
|
| Broke me down and left me shattered
|
| Hard as diamonds, it does not matter
|
| Won’t remember the things she said |