Nothin' means a thing,
still somethin's pushin' hard.
Strainin' just to bring
it all up the final yard.
Once you get it there,
the latest dream that burns so bright.
You sail away to who knows where,
to make the next thing right.
Another drop into the ocean,
another grain upon the beach.
Ideas set into motion
towards the next just out of reach.
The bigger picture's telling you
you're wasting all your time.
Creating all the things you do
a completely pointless climb.
The universal eternal spark
of the artist flying free.
The poet trying to make a mark
in the endless boiling sea.
None of it means anything,
in a right-handed rulered world.
With common senses tight wound spring,
and prejudice unfurled.
I'd much rather what I do and say
make no sense at all.
Than settle for the time worn grey
of reason's boring gall.
So nothin' means a thing my friends,
it has to be that way.
If the means are only for the ends,
I no longer want to play.
To draw some art from start to end
or write down something good
From where the sanity starts to bend,
just because you could.
Nothing ends up everything,
when everything is gone.
'Cause everything is nothing
once infinity's added on.
You're on your own so dream and think,
it doesn't matter what you take.
When travellin' out on past the brink
of sanity's placid lake.
You're on your own so draw and write,
it doesn't matter what you bring.
When infinity comes into sight,
and nothin' means a thing.
Brett A. Jones Nov 2012
