Those bright blues make nothing more then your eyes,

The peach is just your skin,

Do this mean you are special?

Red is the soft leather you kiss with,

Brown is the silk mane.

You mise well be plastic,

because I know you’re not real,

nothing more then an ugly canvas,

painted with pretty paints,

The easel is getting cold,
are you ever coming back,

Who cares if you do?

You can simply be remade

A couple strokes as simple as that

Do you have that trademark?

The one that shows your dear friends,

You got to be them,

There is no other response

You mise well be plastic,

Because I know you’re not real

Nothing more then an ugly canvas

Painted with pretty paints

The easel is getting cold

I hope you never come back

Stay painted

Don’t come back clean

I know you won’t be able to change