Paint isn't permanent
And granite crumbles just as easy
As the twirl of the brush on the brick

But is anything really permanent?
Besides the beating in my heart,
Nothing seems real,
And the way i feel you
Didn't really exist.

And my mind believes you were there
And my memories remind me of how it happened
And my thoughts drift to you...

But my heart tells me different.
That you never existed
That you never cared
Desired
Wanted,
or Believed in me.

And for that reason ill paint over your image,
Ill paint over my mind
My memories,
My thoughts,
My heart....
But paint isn't permenent.