No gray. No in June. They are mistaken, gray. I wish it was all gold, my world would be full of feelings, understanding, walking along the beach with the one I love. I'm tired of gray skies. And I just want to be understood, because if I do not understand, you can not Starmie next. I would like the gold skin, gold on our bed. I would like to remove the clouds and be embraced by a fervent sun. As you embrace me. But you must understand. They are gray and I see gray. I love to sleep, I hate getting up in the morning. Maybe if there was gold in the morning bright and fresh from my window I could smile. In a little 'you'll be there again. And the gold will come back.
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