The Art of Creation

How do you find the time they say?

I don't, I don't

I say, I say

I make the time;

I make the time of lost sleep

And missed moments

And pushing myself just a little too hard

Of too much coffee and too much tea

And definitely too much sugar.

How do you find the patience they say?

Patience has never been a virtue I can claim to have

Never, never

I say, I say

I pull it from my bones

And I grit my teeth

And I lay on the floor without anything left

I snap at people who don't deserve it

And I push myself just a little too hard;

I drink too much wine

And watch too much TV

And don't use my brain for other things.

How do you make it work they say?

The love, the love

I say, I say

It washes over the grit and pain

And covers everything in rosy colors

It makes the tiredness the good kind

Of a day well spent

Of too much ice cream

And too much dirt

And a most definitely irrevocable stain on your shirt.

If I don't make time

I don't, I don't

I pull it from my bones

And the love, the love it overflows.