Strokes on a canvas Clay on the floor. In the hands of an artist They become something more. Cause, my life is a series of misses Of constantly kissing perfection goodbye. My life is a work that's unfinished A heart that keeps quitting A cup that runs dry. You, make, a symphony From broken melody's You do it beautifully. You, take, the mass of me Make it a masterpiece You make a masterpiece. When the works in progress It doesn't look like much, no. I'm in the hands of an artist I either fight or trust yeah. Cause, my life is a series of misses Of constantly kissing perfection goodbye. My life is a work that's unfinished A heart that keeps quitting A cup that runs dry. You, make, a symphony From broken melody's You do it beautifully. You, take, the mass of me Make it a masterpiece You make a masterpiece. Yeah. Yeah, uh. People change when the pain of staying the same is greater. If I'm created who am I to question the creator. I try to figure the reasons for his decisions But end up being frustrated because infinite intuition is not a part of my psyche I'm well aware I just might be, a product of his divinely dream of being so finely tuned To hear the beauty of what he's doing through me Composing the inner new me A masterpiece I am truly, a masterpiece I am truly. You, make, a symphony From broken melody's You do it beautifully. You, take, the mass of me Make it a masterpiece You make a masterpiece