Perfection,
Trying to fit some kind
of cookie jar
Art, Trying to break some kind of
cookie cutter
with scissors too sharp
you always get it too hard
And then it all breaks through
like the blue blood bleeding red through
And they say you're revolutionary
but it was just temporary
art is imperfection, inherently imperfect
but, man, that's what we're trying to do
You took the thought out of it
you took the hate out of it
now you've sold it out, the exploited's all it is
what I want would weaken whatever we wish we'd finally win
fighting for false expectations, failing, and failing again
The girl stares at her screen for inspiration
but when she finds it
don't know that she finds it
she feels it, she feels it
but words only betray you, if they're only sentiments.
facts are more constant but you never feel them
feelings hurt harder when you never shield them
Nothing is constant
you're not a i don't care
don't even fool yourself; you're not even an artist
don't wave no black bandana, you're not an anarchist
Just a basketcase, wrecking her every space
Melodramatic
staring up into the sky
trying to find meaning where it doesn't exist
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 5:44 PM UTC
Perfection,
Trying to fit some kind
of cookie jar
Art, Trying to break some kind of
cookie cutter
with scissors too sharp
you always get it too hard
And then it all breaks through
like the blue blood bleeding red through
And they say you're revolutionary
but it was just temporary
art is imperfection, inherently imperfect
but, man, that's what we're trying to do
You took the thought out of it
you took the hate out of it
now you've sold it out, the exploited's all it is
what I want would weaken whatever we wish we'd finally win
fighting for false expectations, failing, and failing again
The girl stares at her screen for inspiration
but when she finds it
don't know that she finds it
she feels it, she feels it
but words only betray you, if they're only sentiments.
facts are more constant but you never feel them
feelings hurt harder when you never shield them
Nothing is constant
you're not a i don't care
don't even fool yourself; you're not even an artist
don't wave no black bandana, you're not an anarchist
Just a basketcase, wrecking her every space
Melodramatic
staring up into the sky
trying to find meaning where it doesn't exist
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