Black Rose Colored Glasses

You get dressed, linoleum ground floor—
like magnets to your knees.
Filling up prescriptions on the clock,
wondering if it's what you need.

Black rose colored glasses staring straight into all my friends eyes.
One of us was damaged on the sidewalk
watching the map get burned alive.
I can't deem it unfair, there's no standard ratio of joy-to-time.
But it's too much. I'm too tired.
Too concerned for your life.

You said "Why bother decorating? I won't be here long."
I wanted to ask which way you meant that;
but in the moment, it would've sounded so wrong.
I got stuck with chemical hand-me-downs
that your brothers didn't have.
Pasadena's still the end game, where you'll find yours.

Black rose colored glasses staring straight into all my friends eyes.
One of us was damaged on the sidewalk
watching the map get burned alive.
I can't deem it unfair, there's no standard ratio of joy-to-time.
But it's too much. I'm too tired.
Too concerned.