I, YOU AND ME AND NO ONE KNOWS THE ARTIST'S PAIN
Nothing exists between you and me
Nothing exists even in I
Everyday the promises and everyday
Broken
Why make a promise ?
There is no urgency of time, love, attraction, affection, surprise
Just disappointment
All day, everyday
The artist is disappointed...
All day, every day
In I, you and me.....
We have promised to hurt the artist.......
That's the only promise being kept
First the disappointment in you
Then in I
Then in me
Just like a machine which repeats the function as ordered
Disappointment on sleeping
And then waking up
And then in the morning
And then in the afternoon
And then in the evening
And then at the time of sleeping
And then during sleeping
And then while waking up
And then while awake
Everything is dull and is of immense effort
Surrounded by wrong people
Nice people but wrong people
Wrong for the head and the heart
Money conscious people
Money making people
Money thinking people
No artist is around
No art around
Need to find the artist
The artist is dead
Or is dying
Dying and now dead
Dead...Dead...Dead...Dead.
Like Michael Jackson
They killed him
The one's everyone worries about
The fame sellers
The one who give fame if you are lucky
And then take it away
And then you are called, "Un-lucky...
They give you fame because you are lucky and un-lucky at the same time
They invent horrifying stories to take that fame away
The fame they gave you
And are now sorry that they gave it to you
Now they plot and plan and scheme to take it back from you
They humiliate you throughout the World
And that's their power
When they gave you fame
They felt powerful
Then years pass
And they don't feel powerful
They need to
So they create a Scandal
and take that power away from you
They rip you in pieces
They rip you in shreds
They are intact themselves
They feel powerful again
Now you are in pieces
Now you are in shreds
Now you want to be whole again
Now you try again and again and again
Now you try and you die....
And they feel powerful again
That was their ultimate power
But the one dies is still disappointed in himself
Deep down is disappointed in himself....
Disappointed sleeping
And disappointed waking up
Disappointed in the afternoon
And disappointed in the evening
No art
And no artist
The artist is dead....
They killed him
You, I and me killed him
Though we were not that powerful at all
But he thought we were....
That was the mistake of the artist
That was the tragedy of the artist
He gave every Tom, Dick and Harry importance
And tried so hard to counter their false accusations and slander
Tried so hard that it killed him
It killed the artist....
Not the slanderer
Because he had no heart
No soul
No art in him
He was not an artist
Art is sensitive
Art is never vicious
Only the destroyer of art are vicious, mean, cruel
Not to be taken seriously
But they are the giver of fame
And you and I and me want it
We want that fame which kills
And the disappointment of the night and of the afternoon
And of the evening is not to have that fame
That fame...
Which you and I and me wants....
Kills....
And you and I and me still want that fame ...
And the disappointment of not having it keeps us awake at night
And sad and gloomy and depressed during the day....
But that very fame will kill you one day
But you and I and me, we want it.....
Perhaps we all want to die....
With the death of art
The artist want to die too...
The artist is surrounded by the wrong people
By the money wanting people
By the money thinking people
They put the artist down all day long....'You should think money."
"You are so good, you should be making tons of money."
"I don't understand that you make no money from your art ?"
"Why don't you make money from your art ? What's wrong with you ?"
"You should be famous."
"YOU SHOULD BE FAMOUS."
"YOU SHOULD BE FAMOUS."
I, YOU, AND ME SAY IT ALL DAY LONG TO THE ARTIST
AND THE ARTIST IS SO DISAPPOINTED IN HIMSELF TILL THE DAY HE DIES
WE KILLED HIM.....
THE ARTIST IS DEAD.....
I, YOU AND ME DISAPPOINTED HIM...............
Dedicated to Michael Jackson
