He paints a picture of the beauty that his life’s supposed to be
a few revisions to a self-important personality
he writes his poetry, trims his new goatee
making sure that his empire doesn’t slack
until the cameras in his head all fade to black
no way, you’ve finally got a reason to lose faith in this
this sad excuse of sincere artistry
when everyone is trying so hard to be seen
saying no one else will be seen over me
he writes a new song, with all the words to make you understand
well he doesn’t mean it but he fakes it fine when he’s playing in his band
they’ve got a retro sound, got the genre down, with all the old pioneers under attack
til the cameras in their heads all fade to black
no way, you’ve finally got a reason to lose faith in this
this sad excuse of sincere artistry
when everyone is trying so hard to be seen
saying no one else will be seen over me
and don’t we all, after all,
just want ourselves a little perfect piece of poetry?
Jack said that we could “burn and be
a roman candle exploding across the stars” – so far
the beatniks haven’t stopped fooling me, the movie gods are still fooling me
I paint a picture of the beauty that my life’s supposed to be
a poignant picture that slowly/dramatically fades to black