After lunch had come to pass, I heard him tell the bleary class,
"Many ways to skin a cat", laid it flat upon it’s back
And took the sacrificial knives, the sharps we're trading every time
To disconnect the fragile heart and paste it to a pastel chart
And I kept all the drawings that you did
When you were a kid
But I guess there's beauty in that too
If it's what you wanna do
Labelling the lifeless parts, he treats it like an ancient art
Where history, anatomy, will intersect so naturally
Like Muybridge's photographs, the movements held you in their grasp
Tracing lines and muscle groups, the split begins to be confused
But I liked the drawings that you did
When you were a kid
But I guess there's beauty in that too
If it's satisfying you
Finer studies, lesser art, the stem, the flower, drawn apart
Like puzzle pieces, alchemy, together linked ‘till recently
Like cutting teeth while pulling hair, In the margins of Voltaire, the
Diagrams of heads and hands that blast away the ampersands
And I wish you still painted like you did
Back when you were a kid
But I guess there's beauty in that too
If it's what you wanna do
