Coming up over the horizon
You're burning out their eyes
Big people living in the city
Riding in the back of the car
But you got your notebook
And you're doodling along
Tracing out the outlines
Wonder what you've drawn
Little bit of graphite
Little bit of coal
And you wish she'd love you
No form or no function
No logic to this line
Folding in on itself
Backwards or front
You can't tell them apart
There's no actual structure
You say you're citing Rothko
You say you're citing Smith
You say you saw an Olitski
But did you really see it?
But you got your notebook
And you're doodling along
Tracing out the outlines
Wonder what you've drawn
Little bit of graphite
Little bit of coal
And you wish she'd love you
No form or no function
No logic to this line
Folding in on itself
Backwards or front
You can't tell them apart
There's no actual structure
Now be honest with me
When was the last time
You truly studied form
Really you're just banking on
Someone to take to pity on
Some other kind of lost soul
You can call your own
No form or no function
No logic to this line
Folding in on itself
Backwards or front
You can't tell them apart
There's no actual structure