I read about these people
These wonderful, beautiful souls
I wonder how I'm supposed to muster
Up the courage to make my own.

Because all of these artists,
Their inspiring words and acts,
They make all their marks and say what they will,
And it makes it hard to relax

But maybe, just possibly
I shouldn't be slacking like this
I should rise against and take a stand
For the ones who can't find our bliss

Our art is our being,
It's all anyone really has
When the world is ending, and we're all dying,
Our art will never come to pass.