You say that this is a tableau of black and white.
That there is no in between and that it is the other one who is wrong.
So I'll pour paint all over your sides till the white runs into black and the black into white.
And the green will frolic like butterflies, while the red looms like the ocean.
And the yellow will dance around, with all the exuberance of a child.
And you my old boy will be left to look at the transformed landscape,
and gape in astonishment as we join hands to move forward.
The right hand will take the left and the left will take the right,
And in that moment we'll remember our strength comes through one another,
Not from one side.