the world is changing, and i guess i didn't expect her to change as well,

she was the one that was supposed to stand out, and remain resilient in a world of hurt.

     her canvas was dark, and now they were burning the edges,

the fire grew, and grew, and soon it was too big to control; just as she once was.

      i decided i'd forgive her for that, and that maybe she'd understand,

when i'd show her my colours, maybe she'd love me, maybe she'd see.

     maybe she wouldn't want to repaint over my blues with greens,

and maybe her father wouldn't have painted her smears of black with purple.

- repaint over my blues