Twisted world where artists bend backwards for benefactors
And victims are to be blamed as bad actors
My mind running all around
Poetry is illegal unless you're under the underground
Devious with determination
Solitude is crowded by isolation
Wandered wearily for several eternities
Gaining acclaim, using fake names
Vanishing by sunrise, committing to the wisdom of the unwise
In buildings where if I wasn't a
Performer, they wouldn't let me past the foyer
Here I am pullin' spectacles for the uninitiated voyeurs
But, bein' piss poor corrupted the discourse
As power functions on a sliding scale, so you might as well
So you might as well, you know what I'm sayin'
And that's when I knew I'd found
My way out of this hell
And that's when I knew I'd found
My way out of this hell
Strivin' to be the type of poet Lorca was
When one turns their back to lead the orchestra
Black orpheus, Kepler octahedron
Happy recent, eyes buggin' like Jackie Gleason
To witness true wonder, that's the reason
That's the reason
One time I was doo-dooin' at a gas station and I
Read on the stall, you know, on the wall
"What's the purpose of life?"
And someone had actually wrote back, it said:
"To be the eyes, the ears,
And consciousness of the creator of the universe. You fool!"
And that's when I knew I'd found
My way out of this hell
Break it down, break it down
And that's when I knew I'd found
My way out of this hell
Thank you, thank you art, thank you music
And that's when I knew I'd found
My way out of this hell