The Artist

Always seeking solace in the physical
I do implore is there more to what we are?
No answer satiates my urge
Clinging, scraping toward comfort

Would you prefer the answer or the question?
Possibility or permanence?
A process cycling or a predetermined path?
Pure reality or augmented?

Is this progress
Or a cycle that I am bound to repeat?

Would you prefer the answer or the question?
Possibility or permanence?
A process cycling or a predetermined path?
Pure reality or augmented?

Would you prefer the answer or the question?

Always on the edge of something beautiful
Limitless in vision
I'm at war with what they say we are
We are more
We are more

They forgot the forms of the physical
And the world they did not create
Lost beneath their works
Collective consciousness no longer heard