The colors, they drive it up and down, along snow covered highways and friends sly ways The colors they need light to be seen, to shine, to be everything that they wish to be Why not just take another drink and sit and think… just let it run out… on to the living room floor Don’t hold back when the time fits you, when you seem to think that no one is around… do those things with a heart felt touch Do them over and over until your arms ache and your fingers cramp… do everything that your perverted little imagination can get a hold of and then come up with more More of the product, more of the solution, more of the passion that drives you every day to the next waiting stop Where you pause… listening to the sounds around your head the feeling that surrounds everything when nothing else is really on the line Bang on that drum you little bastard… beat out something fierce that speaks to the devils in the hearts of the men in white… when people that can’t stand to feel Beat out something raw, rip the flesh from its bony hanger In the closet that every thing hangs in rows in the dark Add some words, wont you add something that tells the world that you have a voice, that you throw out against the wind, the marrow has a sole Bring it back down to the ground, the brown dirt that sticks to your shoes, the stuff that we pave over Bring it back oh saint of rhythm, oh god of the drums, oh captain of sonic color Seeing the light under the door, the color comes back and the air looks different Touch the brush here and tell a story of what could have been One that everyone thinks should have happened, wishes they lived in just for a moment, something unreal and more like music…