Paul Gustave Doré

Look I am your mind, see me I'm your nature
And this is how I paint your day
With strokes of black upon the grey

I draw the clouds lingering round your head
I forge the ball and chain in lead
All your hopes, all your wishes
Like birds they fall tumbling to the ground

I make you see a flat-line scenery
At day grey, grey at night
My brushes even tinge the starlight