Strings Attached

Well you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
I bear my soul to those I don't know
like a man out on the drink
I espouse my thoughts and philosophies
but sober I remain
knowing full well, those ideals upon which I dwell
cause me nothing more than pain
life imitating Art you see
is nothing more than a dream
for conservative conventions usurp our intentions
and stitch us up at the seams
I'm freakish as on the fringe I hang
attached by this garroting thread
judged for believing differently
and the controversial things I've said
tell me what is the point of carrying on this way
trying to make water in to wine?
it's not a tale that I can swallow or system I'd follow
but I chase it all the time
tell me what is the point of carrying on this way
and trying to make my mark?
when the crowds they will crush you,
with tarred brush they will rush you
snuffing out that faint spark
For you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
I feel so pathetic, wish I were apathetic,
or could drown away into drink
Yes, you know I'm rather artsy
and it affects the way I think
but I'm hooked to the seam, attached by a dream
so I'll give a nod and a wink...