We can see the art for what it is
What
It
Is
All these things we write
              Are merely cries for help
There
      Is
   Someone
We want to have hear us
                                        
                                                                ­                   Who
                                                             ­                    Doesn't
And we can look for
And never find
We can find a meaning
That isn't                                                            ­    Really
There
And this blind alliteration
These rhymes
This metaphor
Merely all devices
To show how much we                                       Care
Only hope
One soul can love enough
For all of those who don't
                             Or
A lost soul
Can
       Finally
                   Find
                           It's
Way
                                 Home