Art School

I see demons with weak chins
Pasting goose down to their wings
And I watch as they soar
And I watch as they plummet

But the impact never comes
Just this cycle ever spinning
Around and down
Ad nauseam

Well I see nothing beyond
These four walls and this drink
But I see at least
Through each of your abstractions

So you can take all your abstractions
And you can fuck off back to art school