I'm counting on you, my beloved black, to cast your cloak on me / I turn to you, my lovely white, to guide me through the blackness / I open up to your void, my beloved black, when the music gets dirty / And I feel thankful for you, my purest white, for cleaning up the mess / So I'm paying my dues when you both come to me, as a wind and as a breeze / As the tiniest imperfection and the blessing of redemption / Your complementing energies leaving traces on the day / Playfully casting frightening shadows and brightening light / Under the covers or out in the sun, always as one / The demon and the muse, all the things that might amuse / Or the grinding repetition of the most disgusting thought / Leading the way and setting the pace / Making the start or writing the end / In the most quiet of ways, by the present of your presence / On everything else but my everlasting grey