What is your why? Why is your what?
From where is your feeling: heart, soul, or gut?
How do I interpret it? Does it even matter
That our endless thoughts are infinitely scattered?
Whether lost in beauty, or arrive at dismay
It's the unknown that guides us in disarray
Art is a lie that helps us unveil truth
It wisens us as we swim in fountains of youth
While illusions of restriction fill up our minds
Art and money... intertwined
If money is your motive, then stop the train
Before you go loco and plug the drain
That clogs your unfamiliar thoughts
And all the unconnected dots
There may never be an answer, even the slightest clue,
But there's always a reason for why you do.
The art starts with you... it'll never be finished,
Unless the one-way treasure hunt stays with you... diminished.
From where is your feeling: heart, soul, or gut?
How do I interpret it? Does it even matter
That our endless thoughts are infinitely scattered?
Whether lost in beauty, or arrive at dismay
It's the unknown that guides us in disarray
Art is a lie that helps us unveil truth
It wisens us as we swim in fountains of youth
While illusions of restriction fill up our minds
Art and money... intertwined
If money is your motive, then stop the train
Before you go loco and plug the drain
That clogs your unfamiliar thoughts
And all the unconnected dots
There may never be an answer, even the slightest clue,
But there's always a reason for why you do.
The art starts with you... it'll never be finished,
Unless the one-way treasure hunt stays with you... diminished.
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