The Artist's Work

Some people just aren't made for some jobs...

I am not a worker drone
Who works on boring tasks
Just want to create art alone
Is that so much to ask?

For structured work I am not made
Why don’t you understand
That non-creative work I hate?
These aren’t worker’s hands!

I’m not thinking in straight lines
Don’t see the world like you
I just hate to be confined
Do what they tell me to

So please, I say, excuse my lack
Of vigor and of zest
But I’m disliking the prospect
Of work that makes me stressed

Fulfill me, it does not at all
No eagerness, no joy
I feel and I am not enthralled
By it, I’ll be destroyed

Chain up the artist’s mind and heart
And throw away his soul
He, who cannot create art
Won’t be ever truly whole