Rewind more than a couple years,
Backtrack a few thousand tears
And I’ve arrived here.
I’ve returned there.
As a dreamer with that gazing stare,
With wide eyes and a beaming heart.
Shit, I was ready for my life to start.
Back then, I’d paint my skies from wrong to right
In the shape of Picasso’s Starry Night
I’d form each glistening star above the town
And the clouds would spiral around, around.
With a touch of burning blues
My damn delicate canvas I’d abuse
I’d shock it with each stroke of my brush
Each line was drawn without rush
And if I got even further back in time
Before my words knew how to rhyme
It was easier to put my colors to each page
I’d set the paper ablaze with painted rage
And by carefully dotting each space of white
I had shown the reflection of water and light
Like Monet’s Lilies scattered on the water’s end
Each petal my acrylic paint would surely send
But today I look over my shoulder
And the passionate fire continues to smolder
It burns and pierces through the frame I’ve hung
And echoes a song that I’ve never sung
So rare, but so common, beneath the plastic seal
Separate from my world, a touch I cannot feel