It’s been a long way to the truth,
With all the b.. s.. t obscuring the way—
How often throughout my youth
I sought something honest to say.
I’ve seen most art as a lie
That has little to do with the world,
And the honest ones often die
Long before their story is told.
I’ve heard turgid words that blind
In a constant attempt to impress,
While the truly brilliant minds
Can speak volumes by saying less.
I’ve learned that great art is not
For the gaping public to praise,
And true beauty cannot be bought,
No matter what anyone pays.
I’ve learned that true art is above
Rigid rules of the cultural snobs,
Or the cheap declarations of love
That appeal to the ignorant mob.
I’ve learned that wisdom comes cheap,
Told by those who proselytize
Their b.. S..t to those who sleep,
Dulled by dreams of beautiful lies.
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