When we’re young we set our hearts upon some beautiful idea   Maybe something from a holy book or French philosophia   Upon the thoughts of better men than us we swear by and decree a   Perfect way to end the war of ways the only way to be a…      Work of art, oh to be a work of art      But in time a thought comes tugging on the sleeve edge of our minds   Perhaps no perfect way exists at all, just many different kinds   Oh but if it’s just a thing of taste then everything unwinds   For without an absolute how can the absolute define…      A work of art, oh to be a work of art