Jemy Francillon — In A World

A man's art is subject to its subject.

In a world without color 

A man will paint the blues 

The trees would be of the saddest hues 

Something like a Bob Ross dark period.  

In a world without color, there'd be no shine at the edge of our night 

It'd be as though our skyline blew a fuse.  

In a world without sound 

A woman will sing the blues.  

Her fallen trees couldn't beg for rescues 

So deep and low you could never hear it.  

In a world without sound, there'd be no cries at the end of our brother's knife 

It'd be as though our mother's hearts couldn't bruise.  

In a world without you, 

I ran the odds, and our race would lose. 

The art of living is dependent on our Muse 

All the world's a stage, and now we'd fear it.  

In a world without you, there'd be no light at the end of our plight 

It'd be as though all we ever knew was to be abused.