Technicolor Romance.

She lives on a plane and dreams of better days. She travels the world but wishes she could stay. I still can't tell if she's an angel or a devil in disguise. But either way she's got wings and disappears every morning when I open my eyes. And I'm taking medication to figure out if she's real. Or just another side effect from all of the pills. But she's still a thousand miles away. Traveling through the desert alone and far from home. There's no one who can come close enough to keep her feet on the ground. Because like all wild things, She was born free and that’s how she'll leave. I can’t help it. I sit and wait in a place that will be the death of me. And hope every plane that flies above my clouded mind is her returning to her place of birth. I always imagined us in the centre of a beautiful technicolor romance. But we were hanging on to a black and white tragedy. We're cut from the same cloth from a rebel flag. We're the same note that you hear in every punk track. Yet you're getting spirited away my dear. And when you left, you brought all of my fears. There's still so much left unsaid. Just give me one more reason. Why you keep changing with the seasons. We've been through three rounds only to sing our favourite songs without making a sound. But it turns out that I'm not even real after all. I was just a figment of your imagination all along. If only I was real enough to hold her in my arms before the flames caught up. Lashes to ashes and lust to dust.