It must exist like they say
The poets, the artists, the drunks
For, where did it come from if not from within?

The world does not show it
For there is war and hate and malice
But there are people

It must exist like they say
The poets, the artists, the drunks
Yet I have yet to feel that euphoria

That whirlwind that everyone wants
That so few have
That even less keep

It must exist like they say
The poets, the artists, the drunks
Because I’m still counting on you.