"The story, idea, and lyrics are the original work of Lamefroid.'' Copyright Β© 2025 Lamefroid. All rights reserved. He was a painter once, in the sun-drenched south Brushes danced on canvas, colors spilling from his mouth Portraits caught the jasmine light, galleries called his name Success tasted like olive oil, like home without the shame Now the brushes gather dust in a rented northern room He hauls concrete at dawn, blue-collar weight in gloom Numbers chase him through the dark: bills, rent, how and when Headphones on, old songs loop, but sleep won't come again Grey dawn, grey dawn, always grey Another night that slips away Jasmine dreams in foreign air Sun I left behind somewhere Grey dawn, grey dawn, won't you break? Let me feel the warmth I used to make Grey dawnβ¦ grey dawn Work, pause, work, swallow food that has no taste Restless body, restless mind, no rest, no saving grace He misses the warm night breeze, the scent that used to call The homeland where his colors lived, before the rise and fall One morning light cuts through the blinds, gold spills on the bed He sees the shell still lying there, the tired face he led A quiet smile, farewell to flesh, no struggle, no more fight The music stops, the numbers fade, he steps into the light Sun is shining now Sun is shining nowβ¦ Grey dawn no moreβ¦
