There is something so superficial
About an art gallery
Strange pieces strewed about
For passers-by to see
Some people stare
With their nose in the air
And say:
“This piece is exquisite, what a lovely display!”
They’ll insist that it’s priceless but would not pay a cent
And others will question if it even makes sense
“How is this art? A stick glued to the wall,
I could do this myself, it means nothing at all!”
But though you think it’s insane
Your eyes still maintain
You’re respectful and quiet and do not make a peep.
Although you still think it’s a bit superficial,
You pretend to yourself that you get it to feel deep
And somehow it creates a vibe that’s… sort of beautiful
Some odd stokes of eloquence,
Mixed with trash on a shelf
But the piece with most elegance
Is the gallery itself
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
There is something so superficial
About an art gallery
Strange pieces strewed about
For passers-by to see
Some people stare
With their nose in the air
And say:
“This piece is exquisite, what a lovely display!”
They’ll insist that it’s priceless but would not pay a cent
And others will question if it even makes sense
“How is this art? A stick glued to the wall,
I could do this myself, it means nothing at all!”
But though you think it’s insane
Your eyes still maintain
You’re respectful and quiet and do not make a peep.
Although you still think it’s a bit superficial,
You pretend to yourself that you get it to feel deep
And somehow it creates a vibe that’s… sort of beautiful
Some odd stokes of eloquence,
Mixed with trash on a shelf
But the piece with most elegance
Is the gallery itself
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