Open your eyes,
open your eyes,
it's gone now,
and you're free.

Open your eyes,
please realize,
you're the artist now,
no longer bound to the petty limits of others'.

Open your eyes,
see the stain on your predecessors throne,
Realize the imperfection they wrought,
and the pain that followed.

Open your eyes,
artist,
open your eyes,
and give us your best.

Give us your best,
or be torn away,
cheap paper in the breeze,
minding its step.

Open your eyes,
see the protection the artist gave you,
see the shields you've splintered,
and the bridges you've burned.

Perhaps one day it will not matter,
until that day,
sit in splendor,
chained to your cold guilt.