When you think of me, what do you think, geek or bore? When you see me, what do you see, thorn for rose? And when you dream in your beauty sleep, you see a mare? Do you dream, ever dream, in my colours? Someday, My Dearest, someday-someday You shall grow old, and grow up, and see life Through a spectrum of black and white Your spirit, now, is as restless, tossed about Like the ocean waves and butterfly Thinking... The glamorous colors of the spectrum are you And... The dowdy shades of gray not there, are me. And here, I still will be, in that colourless world Like thorn, guarding the ramparts of wilted rose