the artist

I was wading, in the drapes of imitation
When I stumbled on an artist in a frame
And you can’t see when you are drenched in speculation
That your’re in danger of a California cave-in..

In perception and insomniatic leisures
We have conned a certain condescending trail
And in perversion of its biotic nature
We’ve escaped the very clockwork and its tale...
(un-alarmed)

And you hide it like a winters day
Cuz you wear it like the weather
And you break the silence like a gun
When you keep it short and simple

Things are backwards when you’re guessing your own future
Or paying prophets off to bend and shade the light
I need an instance where my mind is far from nurtured
And I'm an instrument of solace just in spite of...
And here I stand in a rain of my own laughter
Another orchestra drawn from my stomach in denial
Cuz I'm still thinking of... and I'm still wondering why
All the wonderful things show up in disguise

And you hide it like a winters day
Cuz you wear it like the weather
And you break the silence like a gun
When you keep it short and simple.