Depressive Strokes Of Indigo
So no one's nice enough to paint your face
With red or blue or black or white
A snapshot of your truer you
To show you what no mirror can do
I do it myself, but I don't like myself
But if anyone knows you know yourself
Can I come close enough to rescue me
I'm pretty sure what the colour will be
Will I stay sane, will I be framed?
Will I look cool, will I be ashamed?
Nightfall dark or morning bright?
I think I'll choose the colour of night
I paint me a picture, with depressive strokes
Selfportrayed in indigo
I paint me a picture, with depressive strokes so bold
Selfportrayed in indigo
Grey's the skin –– hanging eyes
Sick and thin –– not so nice
Uncut nails –– hair has died
Stressed and frail –– I look so tired
Here you are, discolouration
Can't believe that this is me
A bum and freak, abomination
Forget about all vanity
Canvas tales of seven sins
The fucking face of an evil twin
I look like horror, look like fear
Like I haven't slept for a hundred years
When I die –– when I am dead
Bury me –– when life has fled
In return –– I give to you
A little gift –– of black and blue
Sing a song –– party on
Have one on me –– drink and breathe
In the days –– that will pass
Remember me –– who I was
