Stephen Bard - Searching for a Point
Finished upCouldn’t have been prouder
Put yours on
Yours was louder
Derivative figuratively clammy chowder
Steaming up a bowl of pure pretentiousness
To think a grand was wasted to discover this
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
We all sit bent in our folding chairs
Trying to get perspective as if anyone cares
One guy gets so mad
He heaves his easel down the stairs
Smashing his intent into a thousand little bits
Some things go unlearned no matter what the teacher hits
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
Stuttering in a swirling pool
Of sweat and media ridicule
They always paint him as a fool
To me he looks more like a tool
A silly cog in their machine
Mispronouncing masculine
Wasting trees and kerosene
Wondering if she was eighteen
Tripping the confession of his little tryst
With the daughter of that Methodist philanthropist
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
You get so high
Nothing can spoil it
One more step
It’s down the toilet
Snoot full of dust
With a spoon to boil it
Choking on the pieces of a dream you can’t ingest
And to what aim does anybody strive to get so pissed?
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
Broken and expiring somewhere up Mount Everest
As the avalanche descends hoping to be forever missed
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
A masque, a church, a synagogue
A futile search in a blog
Trying to find a light cutting through the endless fog
Still it’s still better than cutting through the wires in your wrist
As the meaninglessness circles in a vulturistic twist
Answers hidden in the doll’s mouth of a mute ventriloquist
Who’s been complaining on an old couch to a deaf psychiatrist
And paying off the Benz of his financial analyst
Prays to Buddha, Allah, Krishna and some TV evangelist
With the ticker slowly rusting in the cavern of his chest
I bet he never thought he’d end up such a fickle atheist
He’s the scaredest and the weakest and the naivest
A pessimistic, misanthropic nihilist
But hey he’s not a cynic, just a realist
And to think he was a passionate idealist
You wanna talk fear? His is the giantest
By all means add his name to the defiant list
An aimlessly pathetic faithless scientist
Crippled from the truth of all the signs he’s missed
Banging on a blackboard with a bruised and tired fist
Searching for a point that doesn’t exist
Written by:
Stephen Bard
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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