Unworthy sculptors
Poor young knives
They'll do what they're told
Lost
Unwanted sculptors
Poor young knives
They'll do what they're told
Lost souls never realized
Unworthy sculptors
Poor young knives
They'll do what they're told
Lost
Unworthy sculptors
Poor young knives
They'll do what they're told
Lost souls never realized
Still I see the blues in sky
In moments of idiocracy
Only to be pierced by statues six feet high
Monuments of mediocrity
Never
Never fully realized
Idols existing, breathing, six feet deep
You can cheat, steal, lie, live your life
But you could never be me
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