Ombre. 50 shades of grey. Things were just going smoothly and straight. Thirty minutes ago you were grand and sweet. Now I'm left alone wondering where you'll sleep.
Why Ombre at different times of the day? You can really dish it and you're often so pessimistic. Most times you're sad, but when we get high you're awfully glad.
Ombre. Mixed emotions, loud commotions, lackluster devotions. Few fluid emotions crossing these oceans.
Ombre trying to find a way. There's no telling which shade you'll stay. Yes, we are lovers and I love the things you do under the covers. But baby you have too many colors.
Ombre Ombre Ombre Ombre. Heart made of clay.