White Noise

Today there's no reason to open the door

I don't know why you're here, and it's all been said before

I'm staring at this canvas, so brittle and black

Trying to find its vision but you're knocking at my back

If I could only get this finished, if i could just see this through

The brush to the canvas is all I ever knew



Singers sing and dancers dance while prophets go insane.

Preachers preach while deadmen die and the prisoner has his cage

But, what's a painter who can't paint

Whose burning light is growing faint

Whose only claim to attaining Zen

Is a spot where something should've been



Today there's no reason in anything you'll say

It's all just the music of the broken record at play

I'm staring at this canvas, so lifeless and grey

Trying to give it vision, but the picture always fades

I just need to see this finished, I just need to get this through

The brush to the canvas is all I ever do



Singers sing and dancers dance while children find the grave

Preachers preach and liars lie... slaves are ever slaves

But, what's a writer who can't write

Whose every day fades into night

Whose only thoughts were never penned

On the spot where something should've been