Painted Corner
Painted in a corner's fine as long as it's in mine Such a spirited old soul should not believe in only science The mad maestro in the basement is losing concentration His housemates sleep above him He hopes one day to awaken Awaken them as he awakens himself to the beauty of the painted corner Everyone chooses their trappings but his loneliness isn't mournful All science was once thought magic Once everyone was primitive Spells and prayers and experiments Each of them have rituals Efforts to explore them can border on identical You can throw numbers at anything and confuse it into submission Love doesn't fit your figures You can't appraise your intuition It's value can't be totaled The source of it is no one's to question It's deeper than the heart of you Higher than any resplendent Heaven No scalpel or probe can penetrate it No Bible or scroll can minister it from existence There are too many angles to view it from for any single discipline to explain it We can only define it together Only by disagreement