All Art Is Useless Songtext
von Antūmbra

To drift through every passion until my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds play
Is it for this I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scribbled over some boyish holiday With idle songs for pipe and virelay
Which do nothing but mar the secret of whole
Art is perfection within not outside
Art only shows nature′s lack of design
Through art (art only!) can we define
Everything else that we've ever become


We live in the gutter, but still watch the stars
We reach our perfection solely through art
The point of it all though, no matter how cruel it seems
Is stating the obvious - all art is useless