The world is just suspension of disbelief
The conflagration of meaning and enterprise
Is only whispers in front our eyes
The dark canvass spewed with living color that never moves
It proves itself, it soothes your seething self
Oh yes, the world is art, a stage they say
And you are the centerpiece, the only
As if the only thing that has meaning is the act of meaning
We are the actor believing our acts
And you are the background proving our facts
