Pretty Eyes, Pretty Eyes! - Major Parkinson

What is the color of your imagination?

What is the substance of your jilted soul?

Don’t say!

I don’t want to know

Don’t tell!

I don’t want you to grow on me

I’ve told you once that some things are just better

Better left unsaid

Better

Better left unsaid

What is the purpose of your isolation?

What are you thinking when there’s no one there?

Don’t say!

I don’t want to know

Don’t tell!

I don’t want you to grow on me

I’ve told you once that some things are just better

Better left unsaid

Better

Better left unsaid

If you were tangible down to the core,

I would never consider you pretty

Cause your vernal features would look predetermined,

I hear the palaver of pity

Tell me who are you to justify your aging arrogance

I wasn’t like this all my life, you know,

I showed interest in other people

I was born with a curious mind just like yours,

now I’m tired, I want to sleep

Cause I miss the soothing tranquilizing bliss of ignorance

So what is the color of your imagination?

Jilted soul.