Текст песни
The artist lifts a simple pencil
His hand moves as by a stencil
No doubt in how to wield this tool
Inside a stark and sterile room
His colleagues guard the last known trace
While he rebuilds a missing face
No gallery will show this art
It's his own choice, his counterpart
One stroke, two strokes in stark realism
A human, disciplined mechanism
This sketch becomes the final law
To hunt and catch the human flaw
With silent, focused, steady grace
He reconstructs a human face
Like frost that forms a winter lace
A maniac's or a victim's trace
This black-and-white and fragile hint
Will start the hunt, will print the print
One stroke, two strokes in stark realism
A human, calibrated mechanism
This sketch becomes the final law
To hunt and catch the human flaw
With a bomber's calm precision
From fractured witness visions
His intuition weaves connections
Of subtle, small imperfections
The weight of truth in graphite lies
A debt that never simplifies
One stroke, two strokes in stark realism
A human, focused mechanism
This sketch becomes the final law
To hunt and catch the human flaw
To find the truth
Restore the hope
And help the broken soul
To cope
A simple pencil
Комментировать