Charles holds his picture up to show "Excuse me did I do this wrong?" Tugging at my pantleg I tell him there¹s no wrong in art He frowns and squints in disbelief Answer: Unsatisfactory Always asking me for the right and wrong Charles wants to know how to sing the songs How to sing along Can I make him love his own melodies? Children scattered Œround the classroom floor Like blank pages on tablecloths I tried to sing them all to sleep Charles at my chair, he can¹t lay down Too excited to be alive And he wants some answers out of me A blank sheet of paper and the crayons clutched tightly in our hands This is what we dream This is what we dream Wipe the slate clean Now let¹s begin Used to thing I could save the world With a sign and my fist up in the air Now the blank page is in front of me And the task has me so fuckin¹ scared Scrubbing the paint from my fingers Stains bled from a child¹s psyche Mixes like blood into water Secretly, as if someone¹s watching Regurgitate like a machine? I strive for more than leading sheep Scribbling wildly on their futures How did I become the teacher? I¹m struggling hard not to return To teachings I¹ve tried to unlearn