I see the blood and the ink in the hands.
I looked around and saw your white face.
I catch the brushes and the swatches to change it all.
Because inside me i have the same white.
It bring me new sources of intensity,
Because in the end we have just 52 chances to make it happen.
I choose the colors to paint my skin and that's why i lead my own life. so don't judge me for where i came from. leave that fake and confort place and bring the wheel to your hand.
You can choose your own path.
I prefer the death than live my life based in cold canvas
With just blue and gray, in sadness.