How does it feel:
To live the same life?
To read the same story in the same book?
Listen to the same song?
Watch the same movie ever and ever again?
I know it doesn't matter to you
For I am not the same all the time
I hate you for being so perfect
but I hate myself more
for changing my hues so often
like the sky of a melancholy evening
How can we still be in love?
Do u have a clue?
May be that is what is called
The green in my blue.