My Colorful Friend

My friend, my artist, my colourful friend.

I don’t want to rekindle it; 

I have no intention of rekindling with you.

You don’t want to rekindle; 

You have no intention of rekindling with me.

But we’re the same, aren’t we? 

The same talented flesh we share, don’t we?

We used to laugh down to our knees, 

Gained a little experience, and now we’re pretending to be.

All of a sudden I’m too good, and you’re too good for me. 

We’re too good, we’re too good to be, ourselves.

You want a castle for yourself; 

I want a castle for myself.

Your queen can’t leave you by yourself; 

My queen can’t leave me by myself.

A little lonely we would feel, wouldn’t we? 

Back to reality, we go, don’t we?

The memories we shared are fresh just like our talented flesh.

We prefer them suppressed, 

They are just too silly, 

Too much like us, and we would rather forget.

Oh no, we can’t discuss the happy days they are just too colourful, 

Too much like us, we would rather drop dead.