That glass was rose colored,
I don't mess with broken pieces, because thier left back there in the sand somewhere.
Smiling, because the only reason I would want them back,
Is carving red ruby crystals,
Harvesting hearts,
And the energy that doesn't do a damn thing to contend with me.
Laughing, as now it's foggy, and I hate it here,
Reconstructing faces, it's amusing,
Upside down and melting,
As frosted the glass grows thick with winter's frozen sleet.
For I left the rose colored glasses back inside a desert's heat,
Somewhere across the nation's vastness.