ARTICLE IV.
What a terrible joke, a cruel one in fact, that to save this world you must put on the cap
The cap of the jester, the dunce and the fool... give up the right to be right or to rule
A dubious journey, but quite certain in fact that to become the master, he must break his back...
Twisting and falling, flailing around. Trying to breath air and instead pass out.
One day he'll get it, one day they'll see...
Perfection is imperfect practiced well, qthe artist's eyes hide the hell
The struggle, the pain the utter torment... Of chasing the muse to the point of lament.
Applauded and praised, give another round! Lift up his corpse before he goes in the ground.
Did they hear a word he said? They sing his words, but their hearts are dead...
Bury me with the prophets, bury me with the poets, bury me... bury me...
one day our ideas will grow in the hearts of men...
