Quiáltera

The Sounds We're Made Of

It's there, just waiting to come out
Inspiration, a blast of words
In little dreams we bring to life
But there are times when nothing works
And though we're feeling miserable
I know the value in the notes of my music
I know the time that I've spend fighting for it
And I tell you

Art is not for cowards

We need someone to share the magic
Transfuse the lines of our love

We put your lives in rhymes and chords
And sell our sorrow for some coins of hope
We're artists
Prepotent bastards begging for your attention
Asking comprehension
Let if flow if you have something to say
Let it go if there's no reason to stay