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Colour Blind

de Immaculate Machine

So much for small talk
The big ideas somehow snuck in
When we weren't looking
And scared away
The light-hearted laughter
Of our innocence
And it was replaced
By a poker-faced need
To draw lines in wet cement

I wish we could go back
Blindfold ourselves and
Turn each other around
Interlock our fingers
And follow the sounds
But without our senses
I feel defenseless and confused
So attempt to be on alert
For fear of getting hurt

There were nine of us in photograph
Now our secrets hide in the tall grass
You can take the "no" with an ample glass
There were nine of us in the photograph

The modes and lines of communication
Have been cut, now it's complicated
We can't go back
'Til we learn to relax

And I did something I wasn't proud of
You paid me back, we're even and then some
We can't go back
'Til we learn to relax

There were nine of us in photograph
Now our secrets hide in the tall grass
You can take the "no" with an ample glass
There were nine of us in the photograph

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