The comet strikes, leaving a trail of stardust
In the lens of the camera, the eye of the artist
Is the creation of an image, a form of birth
The Earth rotates on an axis, always turns
Whatever we want, whatever we might do
A world awaits the creative, to tell its truth
But is the truth a form of freedom
Or is the truth, ultimately a curse
Knowing is what wears upon me
My wisdom born from sorrow
So why would I want to know
“I wanted more than life could ever grant” Billy Corgan
In the lens of the camera, the eye of the artist
Is the creation of an image, a form of birth
The Earth rotates on an axis, always turns
Whatever we want, whatever we might do
A world awaits the creative, to tell its truth
But is the truth a form of freedom
Or is the truth, ultimately a curse
Knowing is what wears upon me
My wisdom born from sorrow
So why would I want to know
“I wanted more than life could ever grant” Billy Corgan
