What happens is you get old
And when you get old, the knives come out
And in a moment that is soberingly sad
yet wickedly hopeful
you realize
there is nothing left for those knives to cut
"The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls" Picasso
What happens is you get old
And when you get old, the knives come out
And in a moment that is soberingly sad
yet wickedly hopeful
you realize
there is nothing left for those knives to cut
