Visions of a meadow, touched with flowers white and yellow
pouring down the hill.
Reflections of her lover in the silver of the river
and she's dreaming still.
Waking to the singing, and the thought of hidden feelings
in the early morn'.
And the velvet chains of conscience, weighing heavy like a secret
in the empty dawn.
Time and time and time again, the voices reassure
she's not the one to blame.
But the sea will kiss the rocks and turn them gently into sand,
it happens just the same.
Now the day won't bring the answer, when the slender thread was broken
she may never know.
And it does her no good crying, or looking for a friend
that vanished long ago.
Oh … How the colours fade to grey.
Rising to to the certainty of words that never leave her
in that song again.
As the rain clouds cry their sympathy, in bitter tears of sadness
on the window pane.
The labels in the bathroom pour their emerald fragrance
and help to ease the pain away.
And the water soothes her body, where the flame of love had touched her
on another day.
Now the mirror tells the story of a life that's lost its reason,
yet it still remains.
And the only sign of light shines down, uncaring and relentlessly
and nothing's changed.
Shining on and on until the yellow of the sun
is lost beneath the hill.
Reflections of her lover, in the bathroom in the mirror
and she's dreaming still.
Oh … How the colours fade to grey.
Chocolate bars and candy floss, fairground rides and ice cream
and a laughing face.
Balanced in the later years, she's feeling lost and lonely
in a crowded place.
And the streets she's walked so many times before
are now a foreign land.
As each footstep stirs the mist, and takes her closer, ever nearer
to a stranger's hand.
She can watch the shadows lengthen, she can beckon to the night time
as a welcome friend.
And the angels wait impatiently to embrace her in the darkness
at the journey's end.
Now the sun grows red and sultry, as it leaves its dying embers
sheltered by the hill.
And she stands there with her lover, a reflection in the mirror,
and she's dreaming still.
Oh … How the colours fade to grey.
©2026 Stephen. J. Green.
