Chroma
Assessing his canvas again, a painter dries his brow
His masterpiece, an unfinished choir of light
Though inspiration has struck, his paints have just run out
He wanders back to the day he discovered a reason to rhyme
He happened upon a boutique, covered in July
Run by a girl, a traveler who dances on the wind
"What are you seeking, my friend?", she asked with knowing eyes
He said, "I need to find color so I have a place to begin"
She said, "I'm happy to give you what color I have for your endeavor
What's mine is mine to give, at least for today
Maybe I'll have what you need, but surely it won't last forever
Just as summer always gives way to autumn rain"
He recalls that summertime day, almost a year has passed
He shoulders his bag, departing his refuge from the sun
When he arrives at her shop, he finds himself downcast
At a shop rendered bare, a void where the sign had once been hung
"How will I finish it now?" he mutters under his breath
"I'll never see the way it was always meant to be"
She said, "Were the colors I trusted to you not to your content?"
"The paints were wonderful but they were everything to me"
"I'm sorry I have nothing for you, but don't you remember
What's mine is mine to give, not yours to take
The painting you're making might not be quite the one you intended
Know that using the colors the world has to offer to you is not a mistake"
Assessing his canvas again, the painter heaves a sigh
He fails to see how it could be part of something more
The girl who danced on the wind unwilling to say why
She left him there, alone, to what fall would have in store
But the girl didn't owe him a thing, what's hers to give was not his to take, he could
Obsess over what could've been, drown in the showers the world sends his way, or he could
Let go of all that he'd built up inside of his head, the canvas of life is one that is
Painted with every elation and every mistake, the sweetest delight and the sourest pain
Why can I not learn my lesson? Is my soul out of order?
My heart just wants to be buried under the weight
Though I know if I look, I can find a million ways forward
I just stare at a half-painted canvas and drift away
His masterpiece, an unfinished choir of light
Though inspiration has struck, his paints have just run out
He wanders back to the day he discovered a reason to rhyme
He happened upon a boutique, covered in July
Run by a girl, a traveler who dances on the wind
"What are you seeking, my friend?", she asked with knowing eyes
He said, "I need to find color so I have a place to begin"
She said, "I'm happy to give you what color I have for your endeavor
What's mine is mine to give, at least for today
Maybe I'll have what you need, but surely it won't last forever
Just as summer always gives way to autumn rain"
He recalls that summertime day, almost a year has passed
He shoulders his bag, departing his refuge from the sun
When he arrives at her shop, he finds himself downcast
At a shop rendered bare, a void where the sign had once been hung
"How will I finish it now?" he mutters under his breath
"I'll never see the way it was always meant to be"
She said, "Were the colors I trusted to you not to your content?"
"The paints were wonderful but they were everything to me"
"I'm sorry I have nothing for you, but don't you remember
What's mine is mine to give, not yours to take
The painting you're making might not be quite the one you intended
Know that using the colors the world has to offer to you is not a mistake"
Assessing his canvas again, the painter heaves a sigh
He fails to see how it could be part of something more
The girl who danced on the wind unwilling to say why
She left him there, alone, to what fall would have in store
But the girl didn't owe him a thing, what's hers to give was not his to take, he could
Obsess over what could've been, drown in the showers the world sends his way, or he could
Let go of all that he'd built up inside of his head, the canvas of life is one that is
Painted with every elation and every mistake, the sweetest delight and the sourest pain
Why can I not learn my lesson? Is my soul out of order?
My heart just wants to be buried under the weight
Though I know if I look, I can find a million ways forward
I just stare at a half-painted canvas and drift away
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Burrowes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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