This is where
Painters rub elbows with playwrights
And writers fall in love with romantics
And musicians break the hearts of their muses
And rebels come to conform
And listeners come to speak for themselves
(for once)
As the observers stop caring to watch
(finally)
And the helpless come to hope
And the dreamers come to wish
As the wishers come to pray
And the prayerful come to sin

Because the artist is king
In this state of anarchy
Where emotion is law
Governed by thought and free love
In this condemned place
of chaos and creativity
(imagine that...)