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Stabbing Art To Death

Shall we use needles or knives to realign your spine?

The tissue degenerates so rapidly

Perhaps it proves it is the time to cover up your face

And smile at me to see if I am out of sightDenying ventricle flow revel in your plight tonight

You're such a wonderful person to know

And my name will rest in utter disdain

My resentment receives its wings for flight

You deceitfully stroll on just the same into your holy lightWith music destroyed, we'll only create noise

Sweet dissonance is all that you'll have left

We'll dance across its grave

The art of singing empty praise with knives of hope

And peace stab art to deathI've watched it on its drugs

And I've seen the doctors shrug

Cerebellums withered up

The heart is blackNo scalpel, pill or stitch, no religious sales pitch

Will ever bring the art that's dying back

And so we are the heirs of this glowing lack of care

Our hearts in one discord

We all cry out for blood and spit we clap

The amps are feeding back

My heart is filled with the one to whom I shoutAnd glowing you speak in the friendliest tongue

In sentiments of gold

And oh, the sweetest songs are sung

And the sweetest lies are told

So spread this virus and seek yourself

You pursue it quite relentlessly when Sunday comes

You'll raise hands to sing what a glorious sight to seeYet I see true art

I see her and I see you

And father you inspire me to sing to you

You inspire me to sing to you

Burn all the flags and the money

Sacrifice and laughThe light in your eyes reflects and I see myself

And all I want to be for you I'll give everything

Just to linger on your lips and feel your fingertips

You are an angelArt is not the world

Art is in our heartAnd so I am the prince of sounds that make ears ring

My princess kiss me with your sweet lips and lo

My heart will sing if art is in yourself

Or in a class at school if art is ego and selfishness

And at the mercy of primitive toolsWe sing sweet goodbyes in screams and screeches

And bury these knives in your heart

No paintings or poems to let you live on

We've seen the last of art as servants and lovers

We wash your feet and cry out into the dark the noise, the beauty

The love you bring me stabs these knives right into artArt is not the world

Art is in our heartsStab art to death

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