Death of Art

Wake up. Can’t we see what’s going on.
Numbness; the only feeling that is strong.
Pills put the mood upon your face so dull the hurt maintain the pace.
Make-up and perfume to replace dumbness;
The common look upon our face.
This feeling surrounds me that something was lost.
I can see it now; we are birthing the death of art.
Mourning for the future that’s without.
Rotten are the seeds that we are planting now.
You’ll see our dreams disappear in the distance.
You’re all shells of our ideal existence now you’ll maintain the pace.
Pills put the mood upon our face so dumb,
Now we maintain the pace.