empty art

I wake up in the middle of a street

The sky is red, I feel the cracks in the pavement underneath my feet

I can't tell if it's midnight or morning

All these carbon copy, cut and paste, picket gatehouses speak the same warning

"Empty art is worse than no art at all"

We're bringing back the honesty, we may sound rough but at least we mean it

I'm tired of seeing paintings void of soul on the Louvre's walls

Cut my wrists and inside my veins, you'll find all my lyrics

In a world where everything's the same

We're drowning in the sound of suburbia

They kill you if you have your own brain