Watercolour کے بول

So crumple these paper buildings and taint watercolour skies I guess the paint hasn't dried yet And nothing feels real it’s something I cannot describe It's just something I have dealt with And all things come to pass, the sun is up again In your face, I see now; a need for new lease on life Yeah, you're just happy to be here If knowing’s a battle my mind cannot choose a side So drop the things that you hold dear You're swearing on your life, I've got it all to lose this time This morning I told you I couldn't be there on time Said: You sound just like your father I'm blind past my fingers, and I'm ignoring all the signs As my memory falters, is this all by your design I am your son, I do not shine You sat bedside, our smallest fingers intertwined And you can leave it all behind I am your son, I do not shine My heart meets my throat as I try and bide my time This is all by your design, I am your son I cannot shine