When will art die?
Maybe when darkness covers the sky,
Or when we **** each other in atomic war
And our bombs destroy the earth's core
Will art fade away?
When there's nothing left to say,
Will art go out with the sun?
Or be taken away with a gun,
What will be the last song or dance?
Will it end in Kansas, or Paris France?
Who'll make the last painting?
Will they know? Their hands shaking,
Will anyone even cry?
On the day art will die...
But i have to admit,
Seeing the end would be quite a hit,
Second only to the beginning,
When art goes out exploding

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Even the truffula trees were cut down,
Used to make thneeds sold around town
Once-ler think of the trees,
What even are these thneeds?
Things that everyone must need?
Or the product of careless greed?
Once you see something is special,
You realize it's too late to save it...
Or is it?
We know the story
About the last seed,
And how maybe just maybe
We could bring it all back
The truffula trees and with them love,
Love for the trees
And love for the seas,
And even the buzzing bees,

Boredom is the opposite of creativity,
So at least destroy

Who am i?
Somewhere between man and god
Who am i?
Someone who'll spare the rod,
Am i Mr. Manson or Honest Abe?
Am i a king or a slave?
Am i Charles Freck?
Do i have an once of self respect?
Do i care?
What color is my hair?
Implying i have any...
Maybe i have lots of money
Or instead just a penny,
Who am i?
But more importantly
Who are you?

Osiris take me away from here
Life is sad and full of fear,
Osiris take my hand
Away from this place of tears and sand,
I'm bored with the nile,
It's like choking on bile
There's nothing to do
Except to pray to you
Osiris take me away from here
Life is slow and rather queer,
I think i'd prefer the land of dead
Instead of this place i dread,
Osiris it isn't fair
Your wife is beautiful and has dark hair
If you shan't take me away,
Give me an my own Isis to love today

They say the world's a stage,
But what role do i want to play?
Shall i be a king until i age?
Or should i be a cowboy playing in the dirt and hay?
Should i be someone big or small?
Would i even care at all?
Maybe I'd be bad for once,
I'd lead a gang and make my own rules,
Guns and knives would be my tools
I'd take what i want
And you'd do what i say
My power I'd flaunt,
In this role I'd play...
But in the end we'll all take hand,
And take a bow,
On this stage so grand
The time to act is now