Every day, Purple day
Every day, Purple day
Not the sign of a dollar,
But a mysterious purple colour.
The colour on which people get high,
The colour of the seventh sky.
It proves your life is one big mess,
And the colour makes it a little less.
To escape from the world you’re in,
To save your soul and save your skin.
To see the colour whenever you pray,
To see the colour, day by day.
Every day, purple day.
Not the sign of a dollar,
But a mysterious purple colour.
The colour on which people get high,
The colour of the seventh sky.
It proves your life is one big mess,
And the colour makes it a little less.
To escape from the world you’re in,
To save your soul and save your skin.
To see the colour whenever you pray,
To see the colour, day by day.
Every day, purple day.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| dikkertjedap: | Dinsdag, november 20, 2001 21:17 |
| Purple...hmmm ja, schreef ik ook al eens een gedichtje over. groet, dd. |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: blupje | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 20 november 2001 | ||
| Thema's: | ||