The storyteller

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blacc rosé

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The storyteller grabs his pen
The storyteller's about to spill his heart again
Of the urge's strike, nobody knows when
The storyteller's a writer with blood in his pen
The storyteller's an archaeologist
Digging up old bones from his soul, finding feelings he missed
And painting pictures it seems just for the thrill of it
Nothing compares to the softness of a good story's kiss
The storyteller's amused, the pen that he use
Doubles as a shovel to dig up all his precious jewels
He leaves a few clues, some call them metaphors
He struggles with ideas, duels with them - el matador
And as he hangs up his life's work for him
He wonders if anyone else would be interested
He stares into the abyss, all perplexed
Wondering if he really does this for him

I'll never sacrifice my art
I'll never sacrifice my heart
I'll never sacrifice my art
Could never kill my precious heart
The storyteller's mantra as he thinks in the dark
Sensitive and hoping for acceptance's how it all starts
But he'll never sacrifice his art
He'll never give up his whole heart
Art or heart, I can't tell the difference
It's all the same, I lose it, I miss it
It's all the same to me I will die
And for my life I'll put up the fight

My study carries on, the storyteller's strong
But the urge to succumb's battle still rages on
And thoughts of the applause, fantasise being a god
Yet he writes to surprise and still cannot be bought
He fights the urge to feel special
Knowing it brings downfall, his calm is intentional
A tiring battle but c'est la vie
The greater the gift on a man the more controlled he must be
There's no room for me, no room for mediocrity
No room for defeat, he must stick to his philosophy
He must keep the peace, he must keep the calm
Of the blood thirsty waters that drown all those who would succumb
And leap on
Painting the purest of pictures
The honest perspectives of someone with the cleanest objectives
As the pen draws the last drop of blood from his heart
Oh, my!
This is art

I'll never sacrifice my art
I'll never sacrifice my heart
I'll never sacrifice my art
Could never kill my precious heart
The storyteller's mantra as he thinks in the dark
Sensitive and hoping for acceptance's how it all starts
But he'll never sacrifice his art
He'll never give up his whole heart
Art or heart, I can't tell the difference
It's all the same, I lose it, I miss it
It's all the same to me I will die
And for my life I'll put up the fight

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