Art is dead.
Art is dead.
Art is dead.
Art is dead.
Entertainers like to seem complicated
But we're not complicated
I can explain it pretty easily
Have you ever been to a birthday
Party for children?
And one of the children
Won't stop screaming
'Cause he's just a little
Attention attractor
When he grows up
To be a comic or actor
He'll be rewarded
For never maturing
For never under-
Standing or learning
That every day
Can't be about him
There's other people
You selfish asshole
I must be psychotic
I must be demented
To think that I'm worthy
Of all this attention
Of all of this money, you worked really hard for
I slept in late
While you worked at the drug store
My drug's attention, I am an addict
But I get paid
To indulge in my habit
It's all an illusion, I'm wearing make-up,
I'm wearing make-up
Make-up, make-up, make-up, make…
Art is dead
So people think you're funny,
How do we get those people's money
I said art is dead
We're rolling in dough, while Carlin
Rolls in his grave, his grave, his grave
The show has got a budget
The show has got a budget
And all the poor people way
More deserving of the money
Won't budge it
'Cause I wanted my name in lights
When I could have fed a family of four
For forty fucking fortnights
Forty fucking fortnights
I am an artist, please God forgive me
I am an artist, please don't revere me
I am an artist, please don't respect me
I am an artist, you're free to correct me
A self-centered artist
Self-obsessed artist
I am an artist
I am an artist
But I'm just a kid
I'm just a kid
I'm just a kid
Kid
And maybe I'll grow out of it