The artist's palette falls,
|
The paint is spilled with blood.
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Someone shot him down,
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Left him without a soul.
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His body's laid to rest and underground he'll stay,
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With hopes to resurrect and live again another day.
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Now they decide who lives and dies.
|
Now!
|
|
His peers won't come around,
|
They're too disgraced to face.
|
Another soldier down,
|
His life's work a waste.
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And now these walls are bare,
|
No one pretends to care.
|
A distant memory,
|
His masterpiece
|
In disrepair.
|
Now they decide who lives and dies.
|
Now they will hold you back.
|
They will hold you back.
|
They will hold you...
|
|
We stand tall and illumine.
|
We fight through and prevail.(We will prevail)
|
We don't stop where you'd be giving up.
|
We won't ever fail.
|
|
A martyr takes his hand,
|
To make him live again.
|
With savage sleight of hand,
|
He'll force his legs to stand.
|
A sick and gutless joke,
|
A serenading hoax.
|
Interrupted peace.
|
A waste of time.
|
A pathetic excuse for hope.
|
|
The sleepless nights have no compassion
|
And the dreams that come aren't true.
|
A charade of lies unconscious
|
And so much left to be proved.
|
But the sun will rise and fall again
|
And the nights will start to shorten.
|
The memories will fade into darkness.
|
You can't let it go.
|
|
But your world is turned upside down.
|
It's a panic you can't release.
|
Once you have it, you just can't
|
Ever ignore it.
|
That's when you realize your best
|
Days are behind you.
|
And all you ever live for
|
Is regret.
|
You can't take it away. (You!)
|
You can't take it away. (You!)
|
|
-----------------
|
The Artist
|
| Silverstein |
