I can read auras, you know.
Whenever it's red or green or indigo,
Pink, purple - maybe sparkling blue,
What colours do you think I hold to you?
Red means anger, a desperate push,
Pink on the other hand, can remind one of lust.
The colour changes every hour of every day,
So come one, come all, and hear what I have to say.
For it is not the colour that creates you, but your soul,
Whenever your name is Tom, Mary, Rose or Paul,
Are you blue today, Mister James?
Stiffen that upper lip, I hear your claims.
You think this is all a lie, my dear?
Well think again, I can smell your fear...