Art is Not a Remedy

I paint my conscience with a brush of gold,

Hang it up for all to see, sold my soul untold,

I write my sins in catchy hooks and catchy beats,

Sell them off like medicine to fix your broken dreams.

Got a problem? Write it down and hit repeat,

But I can't feel a thing when the audience screams.

Every word's a promise painted in pretty lines,

But when the record stops, did we change our minds?

In my gallery of woes, I put on a show,

Call it high art, but it's just another blow.

Pretend I'm saving lives with every single track,

But all I'm really doing is distracting from the facts.

Sign my name in virtual streams and on your sleeve,

You think I'm a savior, but it's all make-believe.

Critique the world like I've got all the keys,

But behind closed doors, I'm just another disease.

We paint the world in colors, black and blue,

Sing a melody to blind you from the truth,

The louder the applause, the deeper the disguise,

But when the music fades, we're still drowning in the lies.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a pill to swallow,

We dance around the problems, never fix the hollow.

Sing away the sorrow, strum away the pain,

But nothing ever changes at the end of the day.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a sweet delusion,

A symphony of nothingness, a perfect illusion.

I've got a verse for every wound, a beat for every scar,

But they don't heal a thing when you're falling apart.

Let's turn depression into art and call it therapy,

But the brushstrokes never paint a clear reality.

Put your headphones on, let's drown out the fear,

But no song can save you when the end is near.

We make believe that every lyric holds a cure,

But all we're doing is decorating the obscure.

I watch the world burn from the safety of my stage,

Throw a rhyme into the fire, thinking I'm the sage.

Criticize the system, but I profit from the pain,

We're all just hypocrites playing in the rain.

I put on a mask with every song I write,

Selling you a fantasy that feels so right.

Call me a prophet, call me what you need,

But don't look too closely, 'cause I'm just planting seeds.

We paint the world in colors, black and blue,

Sing a melody to blind you from the truth,

The louder the applause, the deeper the disguise,

But when the music fades, we're still drowning in the lies.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a pill to swallow,

We dance around the problems, never fix the hollow.

Sing away the sorrow, strum away the pain,

But nothing ever changes at the end of the day.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a sweet delusion,

A symphony of nothingness, a perfect illusion.

So play the chord, hit the note, let the feelings flow,

Wrap your fears in verses, let the emptiness grow.

Call it healing, call it saving, call it what you must,

But every note we sing just turns to dust.

We're the jesters of a broken dream,

Playing songs, but when the music fades, we're still drowning in the lies.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a pill to swallow,

We dance around the problems, never fix the hollow.

Sing away the sorrow, strum away the pain,

But nothing ever changes at the end of the day.

Art is not a remedy, it's just a sweet delusion,

A symphony of nothingness, a perfect illusion.