Images on the sidewalk speak of dream s decent
Washed away by storms to graves of cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone

In your picture book I m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone"see the art in me"

Broken stained-glass windowsthe fragments ramble on
Tales of broken soulsan eternity s been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again

In your picture book I m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone"see the art in me"

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