Lyrics

The Art Is What We Hear (c) Jeff Ashbaker 909-793-0245

The backbone of America, polluted by itself
Smoke stacks play the music, highstrung tweeters cry for help
You dabble in confusion to create this sorted scene
I see teddy bears and puppy dogs and animals with dreams

Teeth just made for smiling, egg-shaped eyeballs tend to pop
Electronical devises make our msuic blow its' top
I took it one step further to read the writings on the wall
But came back with no sense of it , if sense it made at all

--Chorus-------------
But the colors come together and the vision is quite clear
For anyone who listens with the celebrated ear
But even if we whisper in a voice to hide our fear
Soon we will discover that the art is what we hear
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A hat upon a rider, upon a horse, upon a plane
Looking for the answer in the canvas on this frame
I tried to speak to freedom, but no reason did I find
Maybe there's some reason for the freedom of this rhyme

As different as each image is , the same we all shall be
If looking at this picture, lord, the picture's all we see
The deeper in that we may go, to the shallow we may run
For everything this painting says, it says, the artist had some fun

-Repeat Chorus- x 2

Soon we will discover that the artist brought us "hear"
Soon we will discover why the artist brought us here.