My whole life is a work of art But it feels worthless till I sell it A mirage of meaning, buried in signs Doesn't feel too far from what hell is Carry me in on a stretcher of purpose Visibility, send it through my veins But when each drug has run its course I'm left here, crashing again Could you paint me a starlit day? Could you write something before unheard? There must be something under the under That makes every color to merge So keep all the glitter and gold in your pocket It's not that it's not pretty, but I Think i finally understand the fact that Real beauty isn't something to buy