When we’re young we set our hearts upon some beautiful ideanMaybe something from a holy book or French philosophianUpon the thoughts of better men than us we swear by and decree anPerfect way to end the war of ways the only way to be a…nnWork of art, oh to be a work of artnnBut in time a thought comes tugging on the sleeve edge of our mindsnPerhaps no perfect way exists at all, just many different kindsnOh but if it’s just a thing of taste then everything unwindsnFor without an absolute how can the absolute define…nnA work of art, oh to be a work of art