The Dogs in the Garden (Peggy Guggenheim)

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Your dopamine spirals wake the sleeping art,
Like synapses firing their first bright spark,
You rewire the world with your fearless touch,
Threading neurons of beauty through what matters much.
You walk through studios thick with turpentine and dust,
You press your palms to canvases because you trust,
The smell of wet clay rising warm beneath the light,
You stay until the artist finds the thread pulled tight.

[Chorus]
You're the patron of every wild and tender heart,
Your collector's gaze sees what sets us apart,
In the gallery of your love, we're finally home,
In the gallery of your love, we're never alone.

[Verse 2]
Your vision cuts through the cerebral haze,
A mirror held up to the avant-garde's blaze,
You hold the bold ones when they stumble and fall,
Your generosity echoes across every wall.
You leave the porch light burning through the coldest night,
You fold the fractured work inside a frame of white,
You trace the brushstroke where the trembling hand went wrong,
And quietly insist the broken piece belongs.

[Bridge]
The amygdala learns to dream in color from you,
Your faith rewrites what the doubtful thought true,
You plant revolutionaries in the bedrock of time,
Your hands turn their visions from whisper to rhyme.
You sit with the unfinished, the raw, the unnamed still,
You carry their silence up the long unmeasured hill,
Your breath becomes the bellows to the slow reluctant flame,
You speak the work aloud until it answers to its name,
The texture of your courage worn like pigment in the grain.

[Chorus]
You're the patron of every wild and tender heart,
Your collector's gaze sees what sets us apart,
In the gallery of your love, we're finally home,
In the gallery of your love, we're never alone.

[Outro]
The walls you built still glow with light,
Your collectors still searching for what's bright,
In the gallery of your love, forever we belong.