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