When you're not making sense,
You're just making faded shapes.

When reality feels dim,
When you waste away.

But I bare solid truths
On the day-to-day

And I summon your life
And it tastes great.

But if Sisyphus drew
An orthogonal tube,

Then he would be free
Of his terrible doom.

And that is what
I intend to do,

Alive in my youth
Could I be your muse?

But

Maybe I'll age
And I'll be too old

And they won't pay attention
And I'll have to fold

But other arts sing
Just as true, with less face

And I'll wield art again
And forge a new grace.