The lines are getting blurry,
I don't know good from bad,
Black and white are merging,
Everything seems grey,
I can't seem to find my vision,
Grey is what I have,
Grey is the  color of smoke,
That's turning into mist,
The mist that's inside my eyes,
Which pours down when I think of you,
Grey is the color of cold winter mornings,
Of clouds that darken the sky,
Of rainy evenings, of foggy dawns,
And grey is the state of my mind,
When I'm trying to say goodbye,
That's all we have,
Goodbyes...