The lipstick becomes vile, not willing to paint your lips. The lipstick becomes vile, not willing to paint your lips.

My borrowed intellect From white volumes Of knowledge Made me a living dead. My borrowed intellect From white volumes Of knowledge Made me a living dead.

How colourful it is to give every thought and expression? How colourful it is to give every thought and expression?

No storm hit me harder.... I crumbled in pain and hurt Leaving the rest to The Master who painted us... No storm hit me harder.... I crumbled in pain and hurt Leaving the rest to The M...

Paint me whatever colour you wish, Black, grey, something in between... Paint me whatever colour you wish, Black, grey, something in between...

Painted with red, black and white They dance in front of our eyes Serving a purpose That even they d... Painted with red, black and white They dance in front of our eyes Serving a purp...