Dug from deep, the product to create.
Two passions together, an idea we can relate.
A faleck tool and a womb to yield a shape.
A pot reveals herself, which history can't escape.
They paint you with memories and etch in their desire.
Ceramics hardened by heat and pain felt fire. Given away, and to be tossed to the floor. Shattered to pieces, and a pot never more.
Oh to be mosaic; can something become of this.
Oh to be mosaic; something tragic to bliss.
Oh to be mosaic; can something be done with the pieces.
Fragility to harmony, or paper mache and creases.
Oh to be mosaic!
Carbon and clay, they molded him in their image.
Two hands at the wheel, to no one paid homage.
Sculpted outside religion they crumble but manage.
A plate is born to hold the weight of the privileged.
They fill him with fruit that the others will need.
But dig in their forks when they need to feed.
Scard from abuse, every feeder would agree.
Break the fucking plate to set themselves free.
Oh to be mosaic; can something become of this.
Oh to be mosaic; something tragic to bliss.
Oh to be mosaic; can something be done with the pieces.
Fragility to harmony, or paper mache and creases.
Oh to be mosaic!
What remains of the pot finds the remains of the plate.
Broken but still existing and scard from the hate.
They filled in their gaps with mortar and glue.
Together as one now, but still treasured by few.
Like a stained glass window, for the eyes to behold.
There's trauma behind the art, but are spirited and bold.
Screaming "look what we've become, and you'll never be."
A collage of broken pieces but together never weak.
Oh to be mosaic; can something become of this.
Oh to be mosaic; something tragic to bliss.
Oh to be mosaic; can something be done with the pieces.
Fragility to harmony, or paper mache and creases.
Oh to be mosaic!
Strong and relentless they create something too.
A child of love, compassion, and value.
He knows he's supported, with the freedom to choose.
His own strengths in life that no one can refuse.
Encouraged to be himself, and not to be beaten down.
To find what he finds beautiful, and to love what's found on the ground.
Paint your world how you want it son, and fuck those who frown.
And always remember, what goes around comes around.
Oh to be mosaic; look what she made of this.
Oh to be mosaic; he turned tragedy to bliss.
Oh to be mosaic; they came together from pieces.
Fragility to harmony, or paper mache and creases.
Oh to be mosaic!
Arts loving heart never ceases!
Oh to be mosaic!