Wrapped around my self as I am
watching the sunsetgreen shake
the leaves in gusts of forestgold.
And what is it that I've been told,
to remember for that day when I have
greyed and withered and grown old?
Be wise, Colorful Fvrida,
And the world might still unfold.
II. Sickness.
Convulsing in this tinted state of life as
the orange stretches and yawns onto my
walls, and here I lie, thrashing in illsweat.
And what is it that I am never to forget,
to remember when I am praying for a
corpse and wanting this star to finally set?
Be alive, Colorful Fvrida,
And pay the world its debt.
III. Antidote.
Watch the dust float like a hopeful bluebird
and settle again on this apathetic evening
as the hours fall upon my softdozing eyes.
And what is it that was said to the wise,
to remember in the midst of this violet hour?
That once more, we too must fall to rise.
Be patient, Colorful Fvrida,
And the world might still surprise.
Convulsing in this tinted state of life as
the orange stretches and yawns onto my
walls, and here I lie, thrashing in illsweat.
And what is it that I am never to forget,
to remember when I am praying for a
corpse and wanting this star to finally set?
Be alive, Colorful Fvrida,
And pay the world its debt.
III. Antidote.
Watch the dust float like a hopeful bluebird
and settle again on this apathetic evening
as the hours fall upon my softdozing eyes.
And what is it that was said to the wise,
to remember in the midst of this violet hour?
That once more, we too must fall to rise.
Be patient, Colorful Fvrida,
And the world might still surprise.