What Do They Do?

My instant reaction is that this is a portrait of the artist -- any artist, stuck in the midst of the deaf, dumb, blind (and stupid).  That desperate need to create bubbles and burns within, but to create for nobody is fruitless, one must have a receptacle of sorts.  Yet when that creative necessity can find no target save the creator, he is painted as different, outside, even unwelcome.  It is absolutely no wonder that so many creative types are viewed as insane, or at the very least depressed.  The final line is the killer -- to hide oneself is to lie when all one really wants to do is produce truth.