Grim eyes, sad eyes, broken eyes.
Painted black by a stranger's hand,
shouldn't they be blue,
as the loneliness around you?
A fake smile and bared teeth.
Dead and stiff, a corpse who lives.
Only a photograph,
but how can you kiss my soul?
Hair that sticks to pale cheeks.
That is the work of tears, don't lie.
Shades of grey hiding the blond;
always losing yourself, is that right?
Where do the colours go?
Were they buried throughout your life
with the dreams and hopes you had?
Yet you were imprisoned by a friend you had.
But no matter, he's as dead as you.
How do I know?
Because I was named to honour him,
when I'm clearly meant to follow you.