I Was Here (Live) - Philip Quast

I've gone without bread

I've slept in the mud

I've given my best while they've screamed for my blood

I've begged and I've bullied for any small chance to perform

At nights I've awakened my guts in a knot

Remembering how much I gave up and for what

Some paints and some costumes are a pitiful tent in a storm

A handful of coins a trunk always packed

No family no home just this madness to act

Still I have a theory about this disease we contract

That most men are equally crazy as actors in fact

Why does a boy carve his name on a tree

Or the first born inherit the throne

What is a sculptor aspiring to be

When he spends half his life carving stone

Kings build their tombs for the ages

Poets and fools fill up their pages

What are we hoping for what do we fear

I say we yearn to leave something that lasts

To be known for what little we've done

Men tell their children the tales of their pasts

And each man gives his name to his son

Something in song or in story

Something in blood something of glory

Something that won't fade away in a year

Well I will not flicker and die like an ember

Too many men flicker and die

I will leave something behind to remember

Somehow I must don't ask me why

I have no wealth at least none I can claim

And no patience for carving in stone

All that I have are my skill and my name

And this chance to make both of them known

This is my key to the portal

How I can leave something immortal

Something that time cannot make disappear

Something to say I was here