101010

Hold your breath and count to 28

Change is slow, but I feel it taking shape

Folding over us like waves on origami ocean tides, we sway

Blueprints constantly being arranged

Over microscopes we plan and strain

The finest print in the whitest ink

Before it dries, there's no time to think

It feels like everything we've known is sink or swim

But grey is not a compromise, it is the bridge between two sides

I would even argue that it is the color that most represents God's eyes

Hold your breath and count to 29

Connect the dots and cherish every line

Paper cuts and trails aside, make a wish and hold it tight

This time, we'll try our very hardest not to try

'Cause grey is not a compromise, it is the bridge between two sides

The shores on which our stubborn land and restless seas collide

Grey is not just middle ground, it is a truce that waits to be signed

I would even argue that, from where we stand

It most represents the color of God's eyes

We fold our atlas into paper planes

Change is slow, but I feel it taking shape