Drawings in her webs, that she weaves into her art,
To create a life of color, fit for someone's heart
Drawings that she sketched, but not completed

They're permanently down, no way to be deleted
Poems in her journals, as she calls her emotions
Words flowing into her head, causing commotions

Oh poems that she reads, all in perfect time
They're free of hurt and guilt, and stains


Chorus-Oh but when she paints, angels play, as they strum their lyres
When she paints, demons stare, as they start their fires
She can fall, but still a masterpiece to me

When she calls, all her words come to be

Solo


Silent though at times, an artist looms beneath
Who sings out verses, so she can live in liberty

I cannot see what lies, within her poetic mind
But beautifully she dances, a simple rhythmic fight
Oh, oh, oh, oh


Chorus


Oh, oh oh oh