And so I am the prince of sounds that make ears ring My princess kiss me with your sweet lips and lo, My heart will sing if art is in yourself, Or in a class at school if art is ego and selfishness, And at the mercy of primitive tools we sing sweet good-byes in screams and screeches And bury these knives in your hear No paintings or poems to let you live on We've seen the last of art as servants and lovers We wash your feet and cry out into the dark the noise, the beauty, The love you bring me stabs these knives right into art art is not the world, Art is in our hearts