Artistic vagrants
Park benches and vagrants, spray cans and youth. Beatdowns and parties, moments of truth. Hands in the alleyways begging for change, even though it's change that they're getting, they still stay so strange.
The wasted, the tired, the most pitiful wrecks. The dredges of society, the ones with no debts. Don't count us out, and never count us down. Just as soon as you do, our hearts will surround.
Surround the notions, the stigmas, of you and your kind. You don't ever realize, the things that we find. The things that we paint, the art we create. The scenes that we write, and the fights that we fight.
You should be worried about us, or rather, about you. Will you still be here after we wander through? We will wander on, as artists we are. We don't know where we're going but believe me, it's far.
