Angles of her drip in chance.
In times when love became romance.
Like sparks of flame which do entrance.
The color keeps her living.
A painted scene is given life
Beyond the toil and the strife.
As smooth as silks, cuts like a knife.
The color keeps him giving.
They fight and dance with wanton heart.
Why should they stay, but can they part?
Their fate was made before the start.
The colors keep them living.
Without the color they don’t flow.
They’re tied together this they know.
Their love and hate they purely show
Until the color just stops giving.
