Chonny Jash - The Lie of Black and White

Well, it can't all be gloom and doom, now, can it?

Fun Fact! This song was originally meant to be the one with a music video, but the security guard at the abandoned warehouse said "This is private property" and "You can't film here" and "Fuck off mate"

...wait that fact isn't fun at all.

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LYRICS:

I- I-. I- I-.

I remember a time when it was easier
to hide behind the lie of black and white.
I’d say I’d aligned and that I’d be with her,
but even then, the roads had intertwined.

When that rainbow, out of reach, up high, hanging overhead
couldn’t shine yet.
When raindrops from the sky’d merely hide the pain
and make shit wet.
When lines once silver'd blur like those of he and her
and grey clouds left me shaded the gradient of dread.

Back when I said
that “being stuck on the fence between romance is killing me.”
That “every moment I wait substantiates my misery.”
That “all the fish in the sea formate the shape of beings I cannot see.”
“A shadowy mass of that which haunts my dreams.”

I remember that time and what it did to me.
The fear. The shame. The sheer relentless cold.
I’d do what I thought the world would want from me.
I’d smile and wave and be what I was told.

But as time meandered slowly by, it all began to change…
in a good way.
The cloth of life began to be dyed in vibrant shade arrays.
The silence turned to violets.
Gold from violence.
Blue skies that had once mimicked the colour of pain.

On a brand new day,
I finally gathered up all the will to say

that all my life on the fence has made this lens so clear to me.
A 360-degree perspective of serenity.
Now, every hue can be seen, from blues to greens
to all that’s in between.
Agony never really was the chic.

Now, all the time that I've spent in lamentation messed with me.
Now, there’s no noose to be tied that could pinpoint my complexities.
(Oh, say you won't miss me.)
Oh, all the weight can be braced by that which breaks
when tied more carefully.
I’ll share what is gone and wear it on my sleeve.

And yes, as I’ve said,
no, I’m not so blind that I might find this light and think it’s for me.
No, I’m not naive.
I see the shrieks of the damned and the meek
that still are yet to be,
but I’m just a brain, and some blood, and some electricity.
And if I’ve got eighty fucking years before the sleep,
oh, can you blame me for crying heresies?

I can’t abide by the line that you’ve made.
I’ll live in love, you live in hate.
You can deal in rage.
You can judge your neighbour and pray,
but Jesus ain’t your mate.
And he may not be mine, but at least I can be kind
while the world around me spins on a dime, time by time.
What’s the shame in trying to be true to myself in this living hell?
Humanity goes both ways.

And I’m all too well-aware of the lucky cards I’m holding.
And I’m all too safe from the chains and the scathing scoldings.
And I see the watering eyes from those still denied, whose hands quake as they’re folding.
An all-silent scream, covert streams; tears yet unseen beneath a poker face.
You’ll be yourself one day…

And perhaps, in time, these rhymes will seem so absurd and dated.
(And I know we’re not there yet.)
And perhaps amends will be made for the ones who waited.
(The beaten and hated.)
But I can’t help crying when I see the cruel crush the kind and leave this world serrated.
(The meek are frustrated.)
Can we carve a version averse to those doomed to hurt the fools who dared be them?
Or will it be too late then?

Every person on Earth deserves to sing their melody,
and the drumming of love should never have to quell its beat,
but if this tune can be heard and soothe some hurt, that’s good enough for me.
If I’d heard it myself, perhaps I’d have spared some grief…

Now wouldn’t that be lovely?