lyrics
If I was a writer, I’d pack all my books before I leave
But I’m a magician, keepin’ the cards right up my sleeve.
But I’ve grown content with the time that I’ve spent,
Wastin’ away with the ink in my pen.
The pigments and paper,
The marks that I’m makin’,
Will never impress me again.
You’re talkin’ figures and metaphors,
Of which we used to imply,
It was the flash of a photograph
That took the sight from your eye.
And I said ooh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah yeah.
So where are the colors?
The tragedy turned to black and white.
Where’s the information?
And how can we learn to make it right?
‘Cause the blues and greens in the magazines
Get the kids caught up in the TV scene.
And the preteen pop stars
Just end up in the cop cars
To advertise equality.
You’re talkin’ figures and metaphors,
Of which we used to imply,
It was the flash of a photograph
That took the sight from your eye.
And I said Ooh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
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