Painted Lyrics

Paint me a different color than your memories.
Change it the way you wish that you could change me.

This is what it feels like, like a fist fight,
between my knuckles and the drywall.
I'll admit that, for a while,
I wasn't doing well on my own.
Dead is the romantic in me.
So we'll just have to mourn
how he used to be.
He's not the same anymore.