Christo - lyrics

Block the sunlight. I don’t want to see.
Today’s too much. I don’t know what to be.
I see curtains hanging in the park,
orange and flowing, pushing back the dark.
I write sculptures. I build music.
I write sculptures. I build music.

Some call me a genius. I sing beyond the sea.
Others laugh hate higher up than me.
But they don’t know all the things I do.
They walk blindly. They don’t have a clue.
I write sculptures. I build music.
I write sculptures. I build music.

Leonard Cohen. Maybe he was right.
We are ugly, but the music makes us light.
We see essence. We see what’s really there,
We write our rhythms in the heaving speech of air.
We write sculptures. We build music.
We write sculptures. We build music.

Beget the beauty. That’s the little game.
I hear voices from a picture frame.
Plato’s calling. I can hear his lines.
I climb his ladder to stop the rub of time.
I write sculptures. I build music.
I write sculptures. I build music.

Wrap it up, now. I can see what’s real
spiral sweetly like a lemon peel,
but it’s never ever changed a thing.
Lonely painters still sit alone to sing.
They write sculptures. They build music.
They write sculptures. They build music.

So take the sunlight. All I want is sleep.
These mental hiccups are neither in nor deep.
I’ll just dream now, of a different day
where I give my vision to hear some woman say –
“Write me sculptures. Build me music.”
“Write me sculptures. Build me music.”