You haven’t sung this song for some time
The pain returns tears well up in your eyes
You’re writhing like twisting, turning, treetops in a storm
No comfort coming your way
Just endless waves of torn
You’ve got no time for this but time is all you have left
The disease is torturing you to Death
You give it nothing but it takes it all your breath
Your insanity wrecks havoc on you Day and Night
Your lovely soul keeps you in the fight
Don’t let a pirate in the night steal you blind
You’ve everything and nothing to lose
Dark machinations it has for you
Gray glowing moon
No more Silver Spoon
Twisting turning room for you
The Demon returns until Balance you earn
Steady your rudder
Hands upon the wheel
Find your center and Victory you shall steal

Feelingless eyes flicker through the streets.
They see cars moving around.
Their owners blend with the vehicles
until society becomes nothing but a uniform machine.

A uniform, lonely, horrible machine.
Everything
         becomes
    gray.

I told my soul to rest to let your absence be
But why this constant falling make this soul's insanity
Each glimpse, a bitter nectar a joy that cuts like pain
How do I unweave this feeling?

This feeling of consuming chain
I've waited through the silence
Where dreams have turned to gray
Now I'm steeped in blue, where longing holds its sway.

Well I'm sure,
These rainy days won't stay forever.
There's not a chance,
Clouds are big enough to hold that much.
So that is how I know,
The sun will come out and melt this snow!

The weather is important when writing a play,
Such is when Romeo and Juliet was shown,
It was a cold and raining day.

So the audience would forget about the heat,
Off in fair Verona had Shakespeare failed,
To keep mention of the begrudging summer.

What do you see when you look my way?
Do you see me, or do you see something else?
Do you see all the imperfections I possess?
These imperfections make me feel less.
Like the shell of a girl in a picture frame.
Do you see what I see in the mirror looking back at me?
A body, all deformed but shapely; this body has had two beautiful babies.
What do you see when you look at my face?
Do you see the unevenness of my eyebrows and the squint in my left eye?
Maybe there are enough glasses for it to hide behind.
Do you see the freckles splattered on my face?
The sun hasn't been gentle on this aging face.
What do you see when you look at me?
Do you see my darkened eyes, so deep and dark that the colors almost don't shine?
Do you see this hair? It's starting to thin with little strands of gray.
What do you see when you look at this aging woman who is almost forty years old?
Maybe…me?

Somebody tell the sky,
That it doesn’t have to be gray,
If it doesn’t want to anyways.

It’s awfully hard,
To rain on someone’s parade,
If the sun is shining through you.

Even when your curtain is closing,
That’s no reason for you,
To not give the best finale you can.

Bonjour Gray Man,
What is on the menu for breakfast today?
A black coffee and a plate of blueberry jam,
On plain white bread.
A blueberry, for the blue in you,
Coffee and bread, because you find it tasty.
Gray Man of Paris,
What's here that you fancy?
What led you to leave to shaded land,
Of pencil-paper men?
Was it a secret love of bright colors,
That you look so dreary against?
Well salut Gray Man,
Enjoy breakfast in the colored land.