The string is your brush, the air is your canvas.
Like a mystical flow, the power of the enchantress.
Such a meaningless place, where the hyped up reigns supreme
those on top, molding and controlling the minds of the weak who can only dream…
to be…
those in the lights, on the top with the pride of the win
who cares if they commit a cardinal sin?
Thats what we’ve come to, nothing but hype to gain.
Put up in lights, no meaning, just something to entertain.
The days of originality gone where we threw for the sake of fun
young and old striving, dying, just to do what the hype slaves have done.
And when you take a step back to see, what happened to us?
Bring out your opinion and get shot down, by the money controlled and greedy world that turns our true love to dust…
Like a zombie nation, the masses, bowing down at the throne of those who gain power.
Blinded by the fame and fortune and the hopes of the riches that will shower-
What kind of lie is this! Is this what we live for?
Will we do nothing but throw for the sake of things of this world…and nothing more?
But within this dry desert of the dying breed.
We find there are those who truly bring the things we need.
Originators of creativity lie,
within the rooms filled with those who’s originality dies.
Water to the parched land, rain to the drought of the world of nothing but sand.
Can you see them? Can you truly appreciate what they have done.
Its because of them we even have a glimmer of the meaning of this strange word we call fun.
But is the meaning lost…?
No…It lives on…though it grows tired and cold.
The few individuals who don’t see it as old!
NO!
It is now! Its not trash from the past!
And forever it will last!
Then…
Why is it now, that in this dry sort of place
that we cannot see it, as if it was gone…without a trace.
Its there, its alive, but its hiding.
Hiding from the monsters that destroyed it to the point it was near dying!
But that doesn’t have to be I am telling you all STOP!
This sport which we play isn’t about who’s on the top…
The string is your brush…
The air is your canvas…
Don’t fall into the corporate world of money making schemes.
Cranking out heartless metal through those monster machines.
The string is your brush…
The air is your canvas…
Let your mind be free. Be who you know can be.
Forget the hypebeast who want to make you see…
that in order to succeed you gotta learn this, do that.
Buck it.
they are nothing but a sly little cat.
Sent to deceive, make you believe, that you gotta be someone else.
Ever try just being yourself?
The string is your brush…
The air is your canvas…
Can we be, the oasis in the desert of this place we call home?
Will you join, the movement, to bring new life, to this land that we roam?
Its time to bring back fun, creativity, enjoyment of what we love.
May it fly to be free on the wings of the dove.
Peace, love, unity, the things that give us strength.
Respect, goes far to any length.
We can do it. Don’t be afraid of it.
Bringing freedom to the public.
Express your true self…
The string is your brush…
The air is your canvas…
J