Death Of A Shade Of A Hue

Of Montreal



Over a sea of grief, Scarlet died.
Above her dying mind were fossilfied memory imprints of her favorite day.
For a minute, I stayed watching this brilliant display,
Until a god with a broom came and swept them away.

In their bereavement, all of her colorful friends turned to a milky-grey depressing blend,
Which incidentally made Grey feel inane, so he set off to find a less trite identity,
One as stunning and bold as Scarlet used to be.
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