Ivana Akotowaa Ofori - Und**h of the Artist lyrics

I bet you wish that I could say That I regret that I spent All those hours lying awake Writing late into the night Unaffected by the dumsor that plagues your days because my brain works on candle-light But still I wrote And still I write And you're still irate But that's alright You spent a long time wishing for my demise You shot the art in me down But still I rise From suicide, I'm back to life and this This is the und**h of the artist. I used to misplace my priorities Linking my thinking to people who placed their opinions upon mine: super-imposition. Contention followed Resentment swallowed all the pride I could have had in my life Who cared if the letters on my report got better? If my grades depreciate Like the state of the cedi? When you're seeing A-stars You're surprised that I see Ds Substitute math for art And break my heart. I had my eyes on the finish line, like: depart Just Hit the pa** mark to pa** on and pa** out I wished that I could pa** out Or pa** on from drowning In self-doubt. I felt like a sell-out Betraying myself now My soul said "I'm tired" Was never inspired My breath felt like labour An unwanted favour The predominant thought in my head was my d**h. You spent a long time wishing for my demise You shot the art in me down But still I rise From suicide, I'm back to life and this This is the und**h of the artist. For those of us pushed to practicality The artists so far-sighted, mortality is the only thing that seems reasonable For us to ever see. If we are never recognized For doing the things that put the fire in our eyes, Then let the world burn. It's not our fault that they are short-sighted But the truth is They're only seeing through a caste. If we are ostracized For saying the things that we believe in, Don't ever let them stop hearing about it. We can feel bad that they claim that they're deaf, But honestly, they don't deserve our d**hs. They spent a long time wishing for our demise They shot the art in us down But still we rise From suicide, we're back to life and this This is the und**h of the artist. You k** creatives to create the haters, the job-chasers and the money-makers While we claim we're moving forward Our employees are machines Operating machines. No life, just strife. I look into their faces, and practically all I can see is code. The system Convinced them That making a living Is only possible through this mode. It's time to rewire Re-kindle the fire. The tablet we read from Our 10 commandments And it says, "Thou shall not commit murder." The poet inside you spoke, and you heard her. She's pleading for mercy. k**ing her is suicide. It is life vs d**h. Pick a side. You spent a long time helping your own demise Shutting the art in you down But you can rise From suicide, you can come to life, and this This is the und**h of the artist.