Under the vivid colors round about
Lies the purple, black, and red.
Under that sweet old grin
That grimance of yours
Just lying in silent wait.


I guess the comedy must continue
In your own view of life.
For you believe the tradgey must never be
Nor the places of rememberance of old
And coming forth, your Shadows Hidden.


I wish to shout, I wish to shout!
Come out, come out!
Show your melancholy
Show your fear
Come into that Ever-beaming Light!


Shout your Tenebrous for the heavens
Give unto them your Shadows Hidden
And your cold places to the sky
Then throw off your mourning clothes
Lying on your soul.


Come out, come out!
Take your satin rose to the grave,
Then look away from that age old grave
And let the sun rise once again
Over your glooming inner sanctum.


Now give to yourself rest and peace
And in turn myself a piece of peace.
So coming forth from your shades shown
Shall the comedy truly show.
And the vivid colors be nice and true
And not an added fallacy to a Fallow World.