"Art In Me"
Jars Of Clay
Images in a the sidewalk speak of
Dream's descent
Washed away by storms to graves of
Cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone
In your picture book I'm trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, see
The art in me
Broken stained glass windows, the fragments
Ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity's been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of
Mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe
Once again
In your picture book I'm trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose
A symphony
You plead to everyone, "see the
Art in me.
In your picture book I'm trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose
A symphony
You plead to everyone, "see the
Art in me.
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