Sigh, sigh, the color is gray,

The shade of indifference or so they say,

Plenty of value but empty of hue,

Neither black nor white, nor scarlet nor blue.

The color of dismal is the color of gray,

The feel of a gloomy and drizzly day.

The look of the sky before the snow falls,

The sense of my soul after nobody calls.

The color of dust in a sad, empty house,

Now the domain of one little mouse.

The color of windows left long uncleaned,

The color of memories left long unseen.

The color of colors that are fading away,

The color of writers with nothing to say.

The color of vintage, the color of old,

The color of musty and misty and mold.

Some scenes in one's life, they fade to black,

And some scenes we've lived, they keep coming back,

Bu the saddest of scenes are those unmemorable days

That were painted with a palette of innumerable grays.

Gray is the color that everyone knows,

The color that dwells between the yes and the no's.

The color of maybe and the compromised choice,

The color of souls that have abandoned the Voice.

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