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• Artiste: Týr
• Titre: White Island // Black Ocean
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i floated here in a barrel with a sigh— i scratched my head, the palms trees and the sand were all in black and white. we kind of sit around, and think about whether or not we should be happy we made it here at all. i'd like to lie around and think about a way to bring some color back; the only time it's something more than monotone, it's monochrome, and sometimes that's the greyest thing of all. Name the no-show: color, to a grey coast. (I know how it goes if it ever shows: Gently the shoreline waves to the moonglow; Soft, that blue wave carried in a rainbow.) If love was a paint and pain could be replaced, Then somewhere safe could be more than a name. And hate is a stain that color could erase If color weren't trapped in the threads of black and white. So we sigh for never And we cry forever. It's the white, the island, And the stars we start from. So we laugh in sunshine And we sing til first light. It's the black, the ocean, And the sky we fall from.