Had love been able
to be described,
in either jet black
or bone white,
we would have been
walking on the tightrope,
dead centre,
calling ourselves darkness,
labeling each other the light.


Had love been able
to be described,
in either jet black
or bone white,
we would have been
walking on the tightrope,
dead centre,
calling ourselves darkness,
labeling each other the light.