Everything is running out It's all in short supply Life is like a speeding train Screaming as it thunders by
It'll never pass through here again The tracks are rusting 'neath the weeds And you're standing on the platform Watching the Colours bleed
I swear there used to be more stars In the night's black sequined dress I swear there used to be more warmth In the summer wind's caress
Now its touch is false and fleeting Like a lover's who is leaving The dead dream of a frozen seed Watching the Colours bleed
I've tried, you know, I've tried To stem the bloody tide I tore a torniquet out of my skin
I cupped my desperate hand up to the masterpiece's wound But time is running out Nothing in the world Can hold it in
And if I was a master painter My dream would make the canvas whole I'd saturate the fading light through The stained glass windows of my soul
The patient breath of restoration - The breath of life in imitation - The holy word, the artist's creed In thought, and word, and deed Don't let the Colours bleed Don't let the Colours bleed Don't let the Colours bleed