“Turn a Chroma Key”

I often listen to an amusing man
He plays his soul on colorful keys
He often tells us the truth to be
I want play into future plans

But I need to turn a chroma key
And he has a bag of wisdom
What good is that to me?

What did he tell us?

That green can only hold you in the garden
I disagree,
Green can span beyond the warden
It can cram life into a tree
It can drink water and never turn blue
Look beyond the garden
And you’ll never have to be pardoned

But I need to turn a chroma key
And he has a bag of sunshine
What good is that to me?

What else did the man with colorful keys tell us?

That too much red will go right to your head
Well,
There’s not enough red inside our heads
When greed wields envious seeds of green
The earth needs vengeance, justice
The earth needs rust to wash over metal
And bring the harshness of music
We need an earthen spell

But I need to turn a chroma key
And he has a heart of pain
What good is that to me, anyway?

What’s the saddest thing he told us?

That there’s hardly a difference in hues
Oh,
That’s just not true, but it means all the same to you
Millions of souls witnessed millions of blues
As an explosive display of infinite hues
The flame between, yellow and bright
The blues sing a song, full of sullen spite

Is that all he wanted to tell us?

He told me that the other colors fade, anyway
I told him,
Let those colors fade away, any which way
Into reddened hearts, old and new
Through the crushing water, every hue
Across the golden, greenish, brownish earth
Postured and posted, guarding purple ink
Spelling masculine prose, presented pink
There’s a single thread, a thin white line
Pulled by a blackened needle
Charging an extraordinary spell
Writing lines and lines
Drawn by love, love, and love,
And maybe a little more.
Just enough to make a point
To mark a period of time.

And when I faced the man, once again
A fading void remained
An echoing rainbow, stained
There’s a colorful song of truth

He left his colors in his bag
Along with his unplayed chromatic keys
The last of his will to be
A parting gift or beautiful curse

Then,
I took my Chroma Key
The world flashed open
And I realize it was something I never needed