Shades Of Grey
If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Shades Of Gray
If you start here late, no one will know what you did
No, the streets are straight, it's the soul that's crooked
I've been treated fine,
I've been treated elegantly
But I'm not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is East,
West is West
And The Bowery is screaming while Delancey rests
Well, I'm south of the skating, but
I'm north of the cash
I could sure use the money but
I'm ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last night's rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white, and the moon is gray
And the river is black, blue and green
The young are young, and the old are old
There are no shades of gray in between
There's at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all, to prove I was there
And I love the curses, but I'm not one for the trenches
Yes I do love the walking , but that God for the benches
It's hard to tell where green begins, and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second hand is working, but the minute hand broke again
I know time will pass, but I don't know when
The sun is white, and the moon is gray
And the river is black, blue and green
The young are young, and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here, but where I can't tell
There's dreams here a plenty, but they're being witheld
And I'm more impressed with the closed doors
Than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock that's broken
The pigeons are ravens, and the gulls are vultures
And trash
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of Gray (Master Backing Track Take 98)
When the world and I were young, just yesterday
Life was such a simple game a child could play
It was easy then to tell right from wrong
Easy then to tell weak from strong
When a man should stand and fight
Or just go along
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
I remember when the answer seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt, or tasted fear
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate
The foolish from the wise
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
Only shades of gray
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of Gray
By barry mann and cyntha weil
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
[instumental interlude]
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share.
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
Only shades of gray.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Many
It's so weird!
so many shades of green in my mind!
I fear one, other
I love? Green, gray?
Green, green
green cloudy
clear, I Followed It
My heart is red! And... do not match!
So many shades of....
Could be blue
Gray may be
'm lost in so many colors
Where is my sound To complete this picture?
my colors, my red, my Suffer
My Lord, my North, snow in me
under other color on to me!
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes Of Green And Gray
Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray
Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white
Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone
Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray
poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades Of Gray
Dull, drab scenes we see
play with our minds eventually.
They are colorless and devoid of beauty.
It is then that it becomes our duty
to avoid the dismal, darkened sights
and escape from these shades of gray
and lean toward shades of white.
Unwelcome times come into each life.
They permeate our thoughts so all we see
covers us like blanketed debris.
It needs to be swept away like dust
that's gray and cloudy,
plain and dowdy
which will erode and turn to rust.
You can change these scenes to become
brighter, lighter and not so glum
by altering where your thoughts are from.
If your thoughts are gripping at your heart
shades of gray will never depart.
But if your thinking lets it all go
you'll embrace all the colors life does bestow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Highly-Colored Romance
Ben Green was a New-Hampshire boy,
Who stood full six feet two:
A jovial chap this same Ben Green,
Though he had oft been blue.
He loved a girl named Olive Brown,
Who lived near Bixby's pond,
And who, despite her brunette name,
Was a decided blonde.
"A Highly Colored Romance."
A pink of rare perfection she,
The belle of all the town;
Though Ben oft wished her Olive Green,
Instead of Olive Brown.
And she loved Ben, and said that nought
Should mar their joy serene;
And, when she changed from Olive Brown,
'Twould surely be to Green.
She kept her word in-violet,
And vowed, ere she was wed,
Although when Brown she had Be(e)n Green.
When Green she'd be well read.
But, ah! her young affections changed
To Gray, a Southern fellow;
And Green turned white the news to hear,
Though first it made him yell, oh!
Says he, " How can you lilac this,
When you vowed to be true?
I'll take your fine young lover, Gray,
And beat him till he's blue."
Then Olive Brown to crimson turned,
And said, "Do as you say:
The country long has wished to see
'The Blue combined with Gray.'"
Ben Green to purple turned with rage,
And black his brow as night;
While on the cheek of Olive Brown
The crimson changed to white.
"O cruel Olive Brown!" says Ben,
"I've been dun-brown by you:
Let this 'Grayback' his steps retrace,
And take Greenback, — oh, do!"
Poor Olive Brown, what could she say,
To sea-Green look so sad ?
And so she rose, and said to him,
"I'll go and ask my dad."
. . . .
The years rolled by: Ben's raven locks
For silver did not lack;
And Olive, with her hair of gold,
Was glad she took Greenback.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cloudy Night Sky
I sat last night on damp plowed ground.
Above the sky felt close around.
The clouds were broken by silver rays;
Each was a blue and gray curtain array.
All moved swiftly on their way.
The moon a silver sphere seemed very near,
When the clouds allowed it to appear.
The refreshing beauty of the sky was made,
In the marvelous broken patterns, hues, and shades,
of silver, blue, and gray.
An Autumn Landscape
No wind there is that either pipes or moans;
The fields are cold and still; the sky
Is covered with a blue-gray sheet
Of motionless cloud; and at my feet
The river, curling softly by,
Whispers and dimples round its quiet gray stones.
Along the chill green slope that dips and heaves
The road runs rough and silent, lined
With plum-trees, misty and blue-gray,
And poplars pallid as the day,
In masses spectral, undefined,
Pale greenish stems half hid in dry gray leaves.
And on beside the river's sober edge
A long fresh field lies black. Beyond,
Low thickets gray and reddish stand,
Stroked white with birch; and near at hand,
Over a little steel-smooth pond,
Hang multitudes of thin and withering sedge.
Across a waste and solitary rise
A ploughman urges his dull team,
A stooped gray figure with prone brow
That plunges bending to the plough
With strong, uneven steps. The stream
Rings and re-echoes with his furious cries.
Sometimes the lowing of a cow, long-drawn,
Comes from far off; and crows in strings
Pass on the upper silences.
A flock of small gray goldfinches,
Flown down with silvery twitterings,
Rustle among the birch-cones and are gone.
This day the season seems like one that heeds,
With fixed ear and lifted hand,
All moods that yet are known on earth,
All motions that have faintest birth,
If haply she may understand
The utmost inward sense of all her deeds.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Shades of Gray
Until now two extremes have shaped the days
From opposite ends of the scale of grays.
One without hue and not really white,
Because it couldn’t reflect all incident light.
The other lacked hue since rays that would fall
Were absorbed with no light reflecting at all.
Henceforth, a hopeful force steers a course of moderation.
Opposite ends of the spectrum will no longer stifle a nation.
Thoughtful, careful shades of gray soon will prevail
As crises require scalpel rather than hammer and nail.
Up to now opposite ends have been easiest to support;
Sadly, they have created an extreme world about to abort.
Intelligence and wisdom will finally have a strategic say,
Addressing issues here and abroad through shades of gray.
Problems are staggering and will need cooperation
Of electorate and politicians to avoid a depressed nation.
A miracle has happened to show that all are shades of gray,
As major changes are effected in this quest for a new day!
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Prodigal
I face the day again
Against the window pane.
I remain your closest friend,
And wish you back again.
You wonder how i feel;
You think you've pushed too far.
If only you could see this pen
Scribbling down my heart.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run when i see you--
I'll meet you.
But still the days drag on.
Why did you decide to go?
Did you only need to see
What only time can show?
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run when i see you.
And even if
You never do return,
Still i will have learned
How to love you better.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
But i'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run to meet you.
I'll be waiting.
I may be young or old and gray,
Counting the days,
I'll be waiting,
And when i finally see you come,
I'll run to meet you.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blinded By Shades Of Gray
Sometimes I feel confused and like my heart is broke.
Sometimes I think I'll find inner peace with smoke-
As I inhale the poisons and then exhale them away…
Sometimes I don't know why I think that way-
I guess because I'm blinded by shades of gray-
As I blindly try to find my way...
Sometimes I fly so high-
But the problems are still there, I cant deny-
Because eventually, I have to come back down to reality,
And that's one thing, From which drugs can never permanently set you free...
Sometimes I don't know why
I think that way-
I guess because I'm blinded by shades of gray-
As I blindly try to find my way...
Sometimes I think I'll find my answers,
At the bottom of a glass and I'll try to drink my problems away-
As the world around me blurs-
With bitter-sweet intoxication...
Sometimes I don't know why I think that way-
I guess its just my sometimes foolish imagination-
As I blindly try to find my way...
Sometimes I like to feel pain on the outside-
To mask the pain on the inside…
Sometimes I'll cut my wrists-
Sometimes longing just to end the pain and darkness-
With all this suffering inside-
Thinking that suicide,
Would be okay-
Hoping to bleed to death and fade into oblivion…
Sometimes I don't know why I think that way-
I guess because I'm blinded by shades of gray-
While I feel like the world is a place, Not worth living in-
In which I blindly try to find my way...
I hope its not to late,
To escape
This dark fate-
But for now, I guess I'll just have to wait-
As I long to escape the pain-
To never have to face it again...
But for now, I'll just take my medicine-
To help me forget this dark world, I'm living in...
poem by Philip Alarie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Koi swimming circles
in black and white shades of gray
indivisible
haiku by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When you're the victim of the behavior, it's black and white when you're the perpetrator, there are a million shades of gray.
quote by Laura Schlessinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you're the victim of the behavior, it's black and white; when you're the perpetrator, there are a million shades of gray.
quote by Laura Schlessinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of The Past
Verse 1:
Red as the roses come
My love it never was
Dark as the evening sky
We let love pass us by
I was caught in the middle
Somewhere in the gray
Now its time to leave that all behind
My uncertain yesterdays
Chorus:
Now its black or white
Now its wrong or right
I cant live without you here
Shades of the past are long gone
Ive got one thing on my mind...
Theres a choice to make
Therell be no mistake
The time has come around
Im leaving no middle ground
...let my heart be the only sound
Verse 2:
Pink is not red or white
But you brought me pink roses tonight
And I got to thinking to myself
Oh the time is right
A promise is stronger
Than a whisper
So I say goodbye to our yesterdays
And leave behind those shades of gray
Chorus
Chorus
Chorus
...let my heart be the only, only sound
(black or white, wrong or right)
Oh theres a choice to make
Therell be no mistake
The time has come around
Im leaving no middle ground
...let my heart be the only (only) sound
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of Gray
Black is black and white is white
A pragmatist most likely to insist
Ignoring shades of gray he might
For ingrained is a nature to resist
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0004 M i n d
and mind might ask,
why then are brain cells gray? Is it
because the world is just
so wonderful, that they, stunned
and amazed, cannot decide
which colour to praise first?
(Mix all the colours of the paints,
and the result is gray.)
or is it because they feel themselves
so dull in comparison
with the miracle which is creation,
the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?
(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,
and the result is white.)
or is it, because they know
their work lies between ultimates
such as (do they themselves
call them this?) black,
and white? do they know
their work is equity –
to balance all things, so that gray is not gray
as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but
the gray of lakes at peace;
of silver that lives in itself,
needing no sun but its own innerness;
mercury that is moved but longs
to be united in a perfect sphere;
gray of clouds that know
the blessings that they hold;
and, the shining gray of mind -
for which gray hair is living metaphor,
the wisdom which life holds in store for you -
as how many poets, this moment round the world,
are joining new electric paths of thought between
these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact,
their vast and inner space which spins out eager words
of metaphor, for that so nameless,
boundless, dazzling spectrum,
the radiant space of self?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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