Maynard's the man, he can scream, and whisper
Depending on the tone, he wants to deliver
Maynard knows pain, cuz he was abused
In ways, and in methods, that are taboo

Some would commit, to suicide's grasp
Not Maynard James Keenan, he made it past
Getting by the despair, and through the turmoil
His anger froths up, as it starts to boil

He uses his art, to express his rage
standing outside, the spotlight onstage
He pushes away, the fans and fanatics
We're still drawn in, to Maynard's magic

Danny is the drummer, and he can "Carey" the band
Devastating the drums, with sticks from his hands
The rhythm section, the backbone of the notes
He hammers it home, with symbols and strokes

Adam Jones, has art in his bones
Intriguing artisan, with objects to be shown
He does all the videos, artwork most bizarre
Abstract ideas, also he plays guitar

Justin Chancellor, makes 4 for the team
A bass adds color, to the entire scheme
Bassists aren't remembered, seems to be the decision
But without Justin, there would be no song called Schism

People flock to Tool's art,  in masses and droves
Their music has substance, and this clearly shows
Art trumps hurt, allowing a release
Although pain doesn't leave,
it can momentarily cease

From the beginning cords, to the apex, and finish
Tool's music carries us, our torment can diminish