Hold your breath and count to 28
Change is slow but I feel it taking shape
Folding over us like waves
On origami ocean tides, we sway
Like blueprints constantly being rearranged
Over microscopes we plan and strain
The finest print in the whitest ink
Before it dries, there's no time to think
It feels like everything we've known is sink or swim
But grey is not a compromise
It is the bridge between two sides
I would even argue that it is the color
That most represents God's eyes
Hold your breath and count to 29
Connect the dots and cherish every line
Paper cuts and trails aside
Make a wish and hold it tight
This time, we'll try our very hardest not to try
'Cause grey is not a compromise
It is the bridge between two sides
The shores on which our stubborn land
And restless seas collide
Grey is not just middle ground
It is a truce that waits to be signed
I would even argue that, from where we stand
It most represents the color of God's eyes
So, let's fold our atlas into paper planes
Change is slow, but I feel it taking shape