Grasping for oblivion

Cezanne, the unloved prophet, found a dignity

the grace in everyone

He packed his reverence and his paints and went

where no one else had gone

Such a lone-strung man was he

Solitary vision, dyin' to break free

And I hear the voices when you call

see the hero where you fall

You're the reason why I can't get old

You're the reason why I run

you're the reason why I come

I will be forever grasping your oblivion

Picasso in his world ruled over everything

there was no other way

How else could he face the Dons of history

and brush them all away

Such a potent man was he

Scandalized by nothing - perhaps what only he could see

A man is just a man until he finds himself

as part of something more

And even then he stops to ask himself

what it is he came here for

Such a wondering soul is me

Sure of barely nothing - except for my uncertainty