The door opens up like a book of clay
Ripping out the pages as you begin to say
It's a waste of time
Sorting out the day
But you really just couldn't think of anything better to display
Foraging the ruffage for a dream to find
Looking for the wisdom to be left behind
Seeing too much light until it makes you blind
Then getting lost in darkness just to lose your mind
Better days were coming then they fell into the black
White is still a color
It's the vision you lack
Courage finding reason
Finding strength in a sack
And then a supernal thought showed you to turn back
With dogs at the door you run out of time
You say you've done nothing wrong and you've committed no crime
Looking far over your shoulder you see a dream sublime
And then you glance at the clock tower just as it starts to chime
Fog rising up as the sun goes down
The mist settles in as it blows through the town
Filling the cup just as your soul turns brown
Which is more than a color
It's an adjective and a noun