Poor is the pupil, who does not surpass his master Colour is the day, long obsession
Well tonight I paint I express and create I stumble and I procrastinate My destiny awaits cannot be late Like a funeral at the gate and so we anticipate
Poor is the pupil, who does not surpass his master Colour is the day, long obsession
So I paint, I shall not faint I boast of my deliberate fate The nothingness is real it has found me here I embrace the empty hollow of my soul I might be singing, if I had music ringing but the cowards are beaten like dogs Saints of creation bids you motivation is God still there for me
If the music doesn't play, nothing is okay Just remember words that I say Where I lay my head is where I pray If I dig a grave, that is where I give praise
Poor is the pupil, who does not surpass his master Colour is the day, long obsession