The Artist
 
 I know that you're an artist,
 but you're the hardest one to deal with
 
 Everything that you conceal
 is revealed on your canvas
 You find all of your ugly meanings
 in all of the things I find beautiful
 Do you see the fall is coming?
 
 Come, I'm falling into you
 You perceive all of these things
 
 I'd never have known
 
 Love, will you turn off the lights?
 We're already home
 You painted me in pastel,
 colors that don't tell of any boldness
 That's the way you'd love to see me so delicate, so weak, so little purpose
 But your eyes are drawn of charcoal
 They're black, they're so cold, they're so imperfect
 Because they see a sleeping world,
 where waking isn't worth it
 You perceive all of these things
 That I'd never have known
 Love, will you turn off the lights?
 
 We're already home