You want to see the world through their eyes thinking they make things beautiful.
You urge your dreams to be full of strokes.
Maybe they’ll target a stranger\'s soul.
Where is the thrive. Where is your art.
Enchanting jealousy.
A reflection that you never got talking.
The boy and the artist.
I shout in every notebook I find thrown around.
People insist in calling it art.
I call it yesterday\'s stories.
You are the boy that lost his art. And i am the artist that\'s been told too many lies.