Through my stained-glass eye I spy a peculiar dye
And it’s a creeping melancholy overtone
This shade, it comforts and casts
As many others have done in the past
But it’s a pigment that is all my own
It’s a color that’s other than the blue
That I usually find I fall into when I start to feel like this
If a hint of this pain is closing in
On a rosily-tinted view, but then it is pointless to resist
As anniversary tears are crying out in sad uneven years
It might as well be aubergine

She blushed and turned away as I attempted to say
“Who’s given you that little badge of history?”
For shе wore an ancient bruise
Likе the flame that flickered the fuse
And ever since the memory is all I feel
It’s a color that’s other than the blue
One I usually find I fall into when I start to feel like this
If the hint of that pain is closing in
On a rosily-tinted view, but then it is pointless to resist
As anniversary tears are trying out in sad uneven years
It might as well be aubergine

Through my stained-glassed eye I spy a peculiar dye
And it’s a creeping melancholy overtone
For she wore an ancient bruise
Like the flame that flickered the fuse
And ever since the memory is all I feel