Sculptor - Luluc

Sitting with the politicians

Suiting up these rags need stitching

How’d I get to this part of the plan

A nomad riding a luxury train

In the sky

Do politicians wanna be musicians

A rock star with a party line

A folk tune we know the words to

Empty sounds resounding sounds of nothing

The lady’s dancing the safety demonstration

Painted faces, nothing out of place

Will they stay that way

If we tumble to crash

Perfect dolls would we float

Salted, washed, lifted, lost, but found somewhere else

Found somewhere else

Taken by a light

Brightest on the other side

Let me know the color and trace of my worst fears

And face them without a tremor

Without the slightest sense of dread

But as the ghost of my own unruly head

May just see its own kind

Its own creation

And a final place

The most beautiful, serene sculpture

My hands could make

Could trace

Could make

Could trace

Could make

Could trace

Could break