it’s paper mache and rhyme
laughing with people with no sense of time
art is the lives of you and me
the people that color history

speaking in coffee shops over the din
drawing on chalkboards of the love you hold in
it’s being alone and under a tree
with only the stars to breathe what you see

art, it’s carven onto the tongue
some people's nasty and curt
others, with expressions from flower shops
that never, no never, ever, hurt

did you cry the day I went away?
to chase the inspiration of art another day
it’s in tears and fairy dust
magical to the beholder and the rust