Pretty Eyes, Pretty Eyes!

What is the color of your imagination?
What is the substance of your jilted soul?
Don’t say!
I don’t want to know
Don’t tell!
I don’t want you to grow on me
I’ve told you once that some things are just better
Better left unsaid
Better
Better left unsaid
What is the purpose of your isolation?
What are you thinking when there’s no one there?
Don’t say!
I don’t want to know
Don’t tell!
I don’t want you to grow on me
I’ve told you once that some things are just better
Better left unsaid
Better
Better left unsaid
If you were tangible down to the core,
I would never consider you pretty
Cause your vernal features would look predetermined,
I hear the palaver of pity
Tell me who are you to justify your aging arrogance
I wasn’t like this all my life, you know,
I showed interest in other people
I was born with a curious mind just like yours,
now I’m tired, I want to sleep
Cause I miss the soothing tranquilizing bliss of ignorance
So what is the color of your imagination?
Jilted soul.